


Maiden, Mother, Crone

by Calesvol



Series: WIPs [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anbu Haruno Sakura, BAMF Haruno Sakura, F/M, Government Conspiracy, Haruno Sakura-centric, Mental Health Issues, Mokuton User Haruno Sakura, Past Relationship(s), Post-War, Sage Haruno Sakura, Sage Mode (Naruto), Slow Burn, Slug Sage AU, World Travel, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:16:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 90,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22914625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calesvol/pseuds/Calesvol
Summary: Beginning roughly three months after the end of the Fourth Shinobi World War, Sakura finds herself at odds with the future already laid out for her and the future she wants to shape for herself. That is, until she sets out in a journey of self-discovery and an odyssey to become a woman she never thought she was capable of becoming.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Senju Hashirama, Haruno Sakura/Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara, Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Madara, Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: WIPs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1004256
Comments: 81
Kudos: 323





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

Warning(s): T, none

* * *

It had been three months since the end of the Fourth Shinobi World War, already in the middle of a deeper winter than the Land of Fire had experienced before. Since so much of the village had been destroyed, the dormitories where single kunoichi and shinobi like her stayed had been decimated, but were being rebuilt while her parents’ house had miraculously remained intact. Her room seemed almost untouched from when she was a child, still able to see the outside world and the snow accumulated on her balcony if she turned her head just enough.

Outside, Sakura could see the silhouettes of scaffolding encompassing nearly every building, construction equipment having been imported from outside the village due to them lacking their own. Though it wasn’t exactly the same, places like the Academy and the Hokage’s Residence and several important administrative buildings like the Intelligence Division and the Konoha Hospital were the first to be prioritized, followed by utilities while general contractors handled private residences and businesses.

In the past three months, impressive gains had been met. In fact, many people believed the village would be fully restored before the beginning of summer if everyone pulled their weight. With Tsunade still at the helm of Fifth Hokage while Kakashi waited to prepare before taking over as Sixth, it meant that Sakura had been appointed Captain of the village’s Medic Corps in the hospital, practically living there more than anywhere else.

That was going to be the rest of her life, wasn’t it? That she’d take over her sensei’s place and lead the hospital in the same way Tsunade did the village. Tsunade Number Two surpassing her master and becoming a juggernaut in the community in a way her teacher could be proud of.

If the blueprint for the rest of her life was assured, why did she feel so unfulfilled?

Sakura rolled over to her back and stared upon at her blank ceiling as she mulled over these thoughts before the answer came to her; she didn’t _want_ to be Tsunade Number Two. What had made her teacher’s accomplishments so special was the fact that she dug her claws into a place most people disregarded and dug in until she forced them to notice. Tsunade had developed several means and methods of healing, vigorously modernizing and advancing the medical field and the methodology of med-nins to a point where they had accelerated past civilian medicine for a time.

She felt honored at the idea of continuing that legacy, but where was _her_ foothold in history? Who was Sakura Haruno through all this, once Lady Fifth retired and her temporary placement in the hospital crystallized into the role she’d be living with for the rest of her life? Was she really blazing ahead, or just swimming down a river her teacher had dredged and filled with water herself?

Sakura would never be ungrateful for what her teacher had done for her. When even Kakashi had overlooked her, Tsunade had seen something in that young genin’s eyes and believed in the fire she had. Enough so that over the next two and half years, she’d become a disciple worthy of the Lady Fifth, excelling through hard work and determination alone instead of a noble bloodline or being sealed with a hellishly powerful creature, or both. Who would she be without Tsunade Senju? Just an obscure genin subsiding on D-rank missions for the rest of her life?

A stab of guilt pierced her when she immediately thought of her father, the man himself a genin who had been working assiduously as anyone else in helping to restore the village. Even her mother, just a schoolteacher at a civilian school, was part of the Allied Mothers Force that was still working on internal and international aiding operations, both seeing her parents rarely home as a result of it. Sakura was grateful for them, even in moments like these where she forgot what they’d given her cropped up in a rash moment.

Compared to her fellow members of Team Seven, Sakura didn’t know the pain of losing her family, let alone her own people like Sasuke had with the Uchiha and Naruto had the Uzumaki through the loss of Uzushiogakure a generation before. The more Sakura dwelt on it, the more she realized she could take on more because of that fact, even if living life as a shinobi would always be scored with tragedy no matter where someone came from or how easy their life had been up to a point.

Sitting up in bed, wondering if some tea wouldn’t help ease her restless thoughts, she swung her legs over the edge and into a pair of slippers waiting on the floor before padding towards her door to take her into the small hallway from her even smaller room. Not bothering to turn on the lights, she was halfway down the stairs before she swore she saw a damnably familiar figure, tensing up before the silhouette rushed her and Sakura raised her hands in useless self-defense. When nothing hit her, a barrage of pain of the remembered assault saw her collapsing to one of the steps, gripping the railing until her knuckles blanched.

Wheezing shakily, Sakura gripped her chest with such force she was certain she’d crush her own rib cage, eyes blown wide and breath stertorous.

 _C-Come on, Haruno! There’s nothing there! Sasuke-kun… isn’t here!_ she pleaded with herself, trying to force some stability back into coltish limbs as the immense pressure gripping her chest gradually ebbed away.

Fleeing down the stairs as if another panic attack would seize over her, Sakura hurriedly fixed herself a mug of tea and rushed back into her room as if the phantom from before was giving her a window of opportunity to escape it. Sakura withered into her desk seat, door shut and locked while her frazzled mind picked itself up from a panicked disarray.

While the tea steeped into a rich amber hue, Sakura’s attention drifted to a small set of stationary on the desk itself, a leather-bound, thick diary seeming to stare imploringly from one of the desk corners. Switching on an overhead lamp part of the assembly of shelves that hung over her desk space like an alcove, it suddenly engrossed her, calming her.

Since the end of the war, Sakura had taken up diary-writing again as a means of venting her thoughts. As she’d been too absolutely busy to keep it up once Tsunade had taken her on as a disciple, her free-time had been spent devouring as many books on the medical sciences as she could and practicing everything Tsunade was teaching her, alongside the roster of missions she did in Sasuke’s absence. Flipping open the cover, she turned to an empty page and began writing.

* * *

Sakura wasn’t sure how long she’d taken to write that particularly long entry, but by the time she’d finished and returned back to bed when she could barely write anymore, she woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed despite having lost an hour or so of sleep.

Except, maybe it didn’t matter that much, considering she’d had her first day off in months that particular day. That morning’s breakfast had been a little brighter than normal, unloading weeks’ worth of gossip and news on her parents who seemed to appreciate being so privy to their daughter's life, Sakura afterwords offering to to do the dishes while Kizashi returned to construction and Mebuki to the Allied Mothers Force’s meeting venue to likely continue with their duties. In the past, Sakura might have used the day to simply head to the library to engage in self-study or to the several public training dōjō to train, but last night’s period of indecisiveness had her thinking.

Just as Sakura had donned a winter coat over her sweater, chinos, and boots, the young woman found herself nearly tackled into the snow by a familiar pair of blue eyes and gorgeously long blonde hair. “Well, look what we have here: the illustrious Captain of the Medic Corps prowling the streets of Konoha, but without her best friend who also, _coincidentally_ , has a day off.” Sakura laughed while Ino grinned puckishly.

“Never mind the fact that we’re part of the same branch of the Medic Corps that was given time off,” Sakura reminded her best friend pointedly as both young women linked their arms together, setting down the street at a leisurely pace while the sounds of construction accompanied their trek together.

“Yeah, yeah, details,” Ino sniffed with mock indigence before her beautiful features settled contentedly, Sakura just glad to see Ino in good spirits despite the loss of her father months before. As if she’d read Sakura’s mind, that blue, blue gaze shifted towards her friend’s. “Hey, Sakura-chan, since Rinne Matsuri is coming up this Sunday, um… I was wondering if maybe you and your parents wanted to join us at the temple that night when they do the blessings for the departed.”

Though Sakura was a little shocked at being asked, it did remind her that the Rinne Festival was coming up. While the occasion itself had evolved into a happy gift-giving tradition where families were supposed to spend time together, the village itself had declared a temporary return to its traditional roots given how recently the Fourth Shinobi World War had ended and how many lives had been lost. While the Harunos weren’t exactly a family of esteem that would normally show themselves for a Yamanaka Clan tradition, she’d never let her best friend down. Especially when Inoichi’s death had still been so recent. It was when Ino needed her most.

“Hey, you know we will. I won’t let you go through it without me being there, promise,” Sakura said when she offered a pinkie towards her friend, who joined hers while looking a little misty eyed.

“Ugh, now my make-up’s going to run,” Ino lamented jokingly while swiping away a tear that built up in a shining eye. “Funny how we used to be at each other’s throats, but now, you’re one of the only people I want to be there for me for things like this.”

Escaping the cold, both girls sought refuge in a cozy, traditional-style tea house that caused Sakura to shiver in relief at how refreshingly warm it was, taking their boots off at the genkan and being loaned a pair of slippers, padding on the tatami mats where a waitress led them to a table, waiting to be served. Tea was a perfect idea, after all, and Ino was just the person Sakura felt like she could confide her plans in.

Sitting on folded knees on plush cushions did they sit across from each other at a low, darkly lacquered table while left to peruse the menus at their own leisure. A koi pond set inside a small, covered garden staved away the cold provided a restive air that made Sakura long for spring to finally arrive.

“So, what grand plan do you have in mind, huh, Sakura-chan? You’ve had something on your mind the second we started speaking,” Ino said while resting her chin on the cusp of her hand receptively.

Sakura sighed and set her menu down, deciding a finalized order could wait a little.

“I want to resume some kind of training. That, and I think I want to go down a different path and let Shizune-senpai assume the role of Captain of the Medic Corps in my place.” It was a lot to consider, of that Sakura had no doubt, but she also knew that she wouldn’t be able to make a real difference in the world if she pigeonholed herself where she did.

Though Ino raised her head from her relaxed pose, a brief look of surprise crossed her features. “Why? I mean, I don’t think it’s a bad thing that you’re thinking about other things, but give up the position of Captain? It’s not an easy job to get, and the fact that you got in after Lady Fifth retired from that post is pretty incredible, Sakura-chan.”

At that, Sakura smiled wistfully. “That’s the thing though, isn’t it? Tsunade-shisō revolutionized how med-nins operate, Ino-chan. She fought hard to see to it that people like us could make a difference in conflict, and make sure how people would live to see tomorrow. I don’t want to be Tsunade Number Two. I want to be Sakura Haruno, and I want to make a difference in a branch of medical science no one’s really considered before.”

“And you already have an idea of which one,” Ino supplied, nodding understandingly as her arms folded across the table.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve thought of this,” Sakura admitted, features stern with resolve. “You’ve probably seen it, too, but isn’t it kind of funny how we get child patients who complain about having issues, but they don’t have any disease or external wounds? You probably know a bit more than I do, but what I’m thinking about is psychology. I know right now, you can’t really get psychology without adding on ‘psychological warfare,’ but I think this is where I’m meant to make a change. To do something as drastic as Tsunade-shisō.”

“Look underneath the underneath, yeah,” Ino considered knowingly. Before pressing on, the waitress returned and both girls ordered their teas and small meals, it slowly approaching noon if the sunlight poring into the little greenhouse the restaurant had was of any indication. To Sakura, it felt like a burgeoning hope.

Once the waitress had affirmed their orders and went off to fill them, Ino continued. “You know, it’s almost like your best friend isn’t from the clan that’s the foremost experts in all things relating to the mind,” she simpered with a mildly impish smile. Brightening at the thought of an idea, she leaned in. “In fact, one of our clan members, Santa Yamanaka, has been wanting to take on a potential student. Befriend him and you’ll probably get a shoe in into the Torture and Interrogation Force, too. Remember Ibiki Morino from the first Chūnin Exams we entered? I’d speak with him, too.”

Sakura couldn’t help but break out into a wide smile, taking her friend’s hands and clasping them jubilantly. “Ino, you’re a genius! I mean, I thought about going to Morino-san about this, but I didn’t think anyone in your clan would be interested.”

Ino puffed up a little smugly. “Why, you’re welcome, Sakura-chan. Besides, as long as you don’t ask about how to utilize our clan’s Hiden, I think he’ll be more than happy to take you under his wing. With things more peaceful than before, they’re probably bored out of their skulls and would jump for a chance to teach a thing or two to Lady Fifth’s own disciple. You’re quite popular, you know.”

Sakura admittedly blushed at that, smiling sheepishly before waving off Ino’s claims. “Maybe, but then that just leaves someone to teach me genjutsu. Kakashi-sensei said I was originally a genjutsu-type, and maybe it’s not too late to try and utilize it again. Especially if I can use it for something good, like psychology. I learned some under Kurenai-sensei a few years ago, but I want to have another go at it again.”

“Oh, so is that why you want to train with Morino-san and Santa-san?”

Sakura nodded. “You said it yourself. Maybe where that information comes from is unsavory, but I feel like it’d be my best bet in a good place to start if I want and try and make this dream come true.”

Ino took a contemplative sip of her tea, sighing at the warmth. “What about your position as Captain? I’m guessing you’ll need to speak with Shizune-san about it.”

“Mhm. We have the same break times, so I think I’ll be able to bring it up with her then.”

“Sounds like you have a plan, then. Here’s to, um… you moving forward with your dreams,” Ino toasted as she brought up her tea mug in a mock toast, Sakura giggling as she clanked them together. Now, at least, she had more than enough faith in her ability to move forwards in this new period of life.

* * *

Spending the next few hours shopping, Sakura felt glad to have some time to spend with Ino that didn’t involve her job in the hospital or Ino’s occupation as part of the Konoha Barrier Team or Yamanaka Flowers. Though the air was biting and chilly, the festive cheer that accompanied the brighter parts of the Rinne Festival were infectious. Letting themselves splurge a little in the outdoor boutiques, their hard-earned money went towards a few new outfits, shoes, and accessories that were nothing of the like a pragmatic kunoichi should focus on getting, but Sakura allowed herself not to care. Working as hard as they did, both girls deserved to treat themselves every once in awhile.

Dropping off her purchases at the still-empty Haruno house, Sakura had finally made way to the Sarutobi compound where their section of the village was well-maintained and festooned with holiday decorations, festive paper lanterns being strung up by some of the estate’s waitstaff that had Sakura smiling as she trekked through the brisk cold and was allowed passage by the gatekeeper before disappearing around back to the Sarutobi’s private dōjō where several younger members were being coached by Kurenai herself, working through taijutsu movesets the children emulated with varying degrees of progression. Upon sighting Sakura, she dismissed her students for the day as they all scattered eagerly away.

Upon being within the older woman’s proximity, Sakura bowed and smiled once Kurenai had done the same. Though the past few years had been undoubtedly difficult on her since Asuma’s death, with the support of the Sarutobi clan, she was one of them and able to retire as a kunoichi. Now, to Sakura’s understanding, she trained the clan’s children and hired herself out as a private tutor on occasion. Much like what Sakura sought of her.

“Sakura-chan, please, come inside. The snow is beautiful, but a little cold, don’t you think?”

The inner sanctums of the dōjō contained private study rooms, each occupied by a table, chairs, and bookcases stacked with books and scrolls on a range of subjects Sakura could only guess. Once seated, it felt comfortable to broach the topic Sakura intended. “Um—Kurenai-sensei, when I was younger, you took me on as a student once before. Obviously, Kakashi-sensei’s really in no position to teach me since he’s preparing as Tsunade-shisō’s successor, but—I suppose what I wanted to ask was if I could hire you to teach me advanced genjutsu, please.” Bowing her head sincerely, Kurenai smiled warmly in response.

“I’d love to. With everyone so busy with reparation efforts even Academy classes have been suspended with how much we need every able-bodied person in the village to help out. Even I’ve been doing what I can, in between raising Mirai.” Kurenai twined her hands together thoughtfully. “I know you’re busy at the hospital as Captain, too, so I understand I might not be able to train you as much as I’d like. However, retired or not, I’m still the village’s resident expert on genjutsu. You’ve certainly come to the right place to learn, Sakura-chan. Especially since it's something of an old hat for us.”

Sakura perked up hopefully, Kurenai continuing. “You know my rates, right? The first lesson is free, and an evaluation lesson to see where you are. In fact, since I just finished my last training session for the day, it means that we can do an evaluation right now, if you aren’t needed elsewhere.”

So… this was it? It was really happening? Although she still had Ibiki and Santa to speak to, she felt a sense of elation seize her. Sucking in a calming breath, Sakura leaned forwards eagerly. “I don’t have anywhere to be,” she replied a little too forcefully, blushing before reining herself in. “I mean, I actually do have a kind of… branch of techniques I could show you. You remember Inner Sakura, right?” At Kurenai’s apparent interest, Sakura resumed.

“I've advanced with her a lot since then.” Kurenai nodded, but otherwise didn’t interrupt. “There's a reason I need to learn more advanced genjutsu. I want to follow in my Shisō's footsteps, but to forge my own path. Inner Sakura, the genjutsu I do know... There's more I still have to learn, I know it.”

Kurenai unclasped her hands together once Sakura finished speaking, the younger slightly taken aback when the woman rose from her seat and moved to leave the room, all before touching Sakura’s shoulder just before coming to the door. Sakura’s heart began pounding in her chest when all she said in reply was, “Show me.”

As the brief moment of stupor languished, Kurenai wove the seals for the Shadow Clone Jutsu, summoning a single clone in a cloud of smoke. Sakura was so used to seeing Naruto do it that she sometimes forgot someone like Kurenai who was a Jōnin had to know something like it. On the glossy dōjō floors kept immaculately shiny, Sakura’s distorted reflection took on a battle stance while she shut her eyes and tapped into her Yin Release, spiritual energy thrumming through her like the whispers of the beyond.

“Okay.”

Kurenai’s clone only needed to be summoned twice through the course of the jutsu, not having relied on Inner Sakura recently. As Yin Release fueled her internal avatar to manifest in reality, she ran through every move she had: Almighty Sakura, Cha Barrage, Super Cha Barrage, Super Inner Sakura, Clone Combo, and Fairy Tale Get. Yet, it was with The Great Sakura and Twinkling Maiden’s Heart that the real genjutsu lay, huffing as the last of the illusion was dissolved and the battered shadow clone dissipated in a puff of smoke.

The Sarutobi was the one who helped her discover she had ability with Inner Sakura in the first place years ago, after all.

Kurenai became thoughtful as she took out a small notepad from her rear pouch, scrawling something down in what Sakura belatedly realized was shorthand, just wondering what the Jōnin thought of the several jutsu she’d just performed. Though she wouldn’t exactly say she was embarrassed, she always had felt a little self-conscious in showing others that Inner Sakura existed, even to the woman who'd helped develop her in the first place.

Once Kurenai finished writing what she intended to, she put the collapsible pen and notepad back inside her back pouch. A hand on her hip, Sakura stood up a little straighter to attention. “It's a little nostalgic, isn't it? Almost like when I took you and Hinata under my wing years ago. I can't say I'm against having you as a student again, Sakura-chan.”

“Hang on, you mean—you’ll take me on as a student?” Sakura gaped in awestruck disbelief, eyes practically shining.

Kurenai chuckled at Sakura’s girlish jubilation. “Yes. Now, do you have a schedule of your timetables for the next few weeks? Let’s go back inside where it’s warm and figure something out.”

“Y-Yes, Kurenai-sensei!”


	2. Chapter 2

Warning(s): T, none

* * *

The day didn’t pan out exactly as she wanted, but considering how much Sakura thought about and how much she was setting in motion, it felt like she’d at the very least managed to take a very large step in a positive direction.

At least… she hoped it was positive. Sakura felt a clout of nerves coil in her breast from that very morning, three days having passed since her day off with Ino and the plans that were coming underway. Working in the hospital was mind-numbing, being so experienced that she could operate on auto-pilot and comfortably retreat into the thoughts running her through her mind without compromising her work. With the sunlight glaring harshly from the snow that blanketed the many irregular rooftops, some nurses and med-nin resorted to simply shutting the blinds after enough complaints from disgruntled patients from the glare of the snow’s brightness.

After Sakura had spent the morning giving a bevy of patients ordinary physicals, she saw her last patient off—a small boy no older than ten—before glancing at the clock and realizing it was nearing one ‘o clock in the afternoon. Time for a well-deserved break since beginning work at seven. 

Heading in the direction of the Medic Corps’ offices, Sakura slowed when she heard a familiar pair of voices, feeling her spirits lift despite not quite hearing about what exactly they spoke about.

With the end of her term as Hokage coming to a close, the bullishly stubborn and strong and utterly admirable Tsunade Senju was as changeless as the Will of Fire, a true inheritor of it; granddaughter or no, this was the woman Sakura owed everything to, even if she was having second thoughts about the career path that was set to be the rest of her life.

“I thought your break was around now. Shizune and I were just talking, Sakura-chan,” Tsunade greeted the moment Sakura’s person filled the doorway, Shizune looking as bushed as she was, but nonetheless two of the best people in the whole village. “We just put on a pot of coffee, and it shouldn’t be too much longer. Why don’t you sit down? I’m sure being on your feet since this morning must’ve made you tired.”

A look of genuine relief filled Sakura’s features as she sank into a plush couch perpendicular to the one Tsunade occupied, Shizune retreating into the kitchenette to devour her lunch stowed in the refrigerator. It filled her with nostalgia, remembering the days even when the hospital had been much less advanced and even a little rustic compared to the current time, being the eager little genin adamant on gaining the Hokage’s approval at every turn. The blonde herself slung her arms over the back, commanding even when resting.

“Tsunade-shisō… I know this isn’t how I should be greeting you, especially since it’s been months since the war. But… I was wondering if I could get your opinion on some things.”

Tsunade’s attentions shifted to Sakura, the younger feeling a slight prickling of her nerves despite how understanding and genuine she knew her teacher to be. “Yes? What is it?”

Clasping her hands together, Sakura had to look away, if only to gather her thoughts. “Tsunade-shisō, when I was younger, I was someone who was bullied a lot. I was a civilian in a school geared largely towards children from clans, so I was the odd one out a lot… even if what I was bullied for just seemed like nonsense. Then, Ino showed me how to be confident and helped build me up until I was more of my own person. Except, I’m not entirely sure if I was. There came a point where it was obvious that I was in her shadow, that I was less Sakura Haruno than I was someone being choked out from the sun. So, I ended our friendship and declared we were rivals. Until I hit another dead end, until I came to you.

“I don’t… resent any of my time under you. But, when people call me ‘Tsunade no. 2’, I feel then what I do now. Except, I don’t have a grudge against you. It just… feels like I’m stuck again. Because I’m not pioneering anything like you, or starting from the ground up. Like people are expecting me to eclipse you despite not having really done anything to get here aside from be your disciple. You changed me for the better, Tsunade-shisō, but out of respect to you, I can’t just pretend like I’m okay with overshadowing your legacy when I didn’t even do enough to get here!”

Sakura inhaled a shuddering breath, intent on apologizing before a small smirk crossed Tsunade’s features, a thoughtful hum emitted.

“It seems you and I thought the same thing. I’m just a little surprised that you realized it so soon,” Tsunade said with a vindictive look in her hazel eyes, but it was by no means malicious. Schooling her features a little more seriously, the woman leaned forwards to rest her elbows on her knees.

“When I took you in, Sakura, it was never my intention to make you a proverbial clone. As a teacher, my job was to recognize your potential and help you harness it, not deliberately mold you into a double. You had such a high aptitude for chakra control and took to medical ninjutsu like a fish to water, but continued to surprise me when I began teaching you the rigors of Chakra-Enhanced Strength on a whim. It’s no accident that you’re as talented as you are, and I’m proud. Frankly, I don’t like what they’re saying any more than you do. I want to see you forge your own path, and I’m proud that you recognized as much. Even if I wouldn’t be disappointed if you stuck to your current one. Because you do a lot of good, and that’s all that matters, in the end. You’re no number two to me or Shizune.”

Sakura couldn’t help but look completely astonished that Tsunade not only sympathized with her, but agreed. Although she knew Tsunade was the best person to come to for advice in her eyes, so much of her had been petrified with fear that she would come across as ungrateful. That the civilian girl with a family who was still alive and well, whose worst setbacks came from being bullied for ordinary reasons, and who hit a wall from not trying enough would come across as a brat for not being thankful that she’d outgrown the pigeonhole she’d practically been cemented in. That the _Lady Fifth_ of all people had been willing to take plain Sakura Haruno under her wing while working through the brink of a crisis the world had been tipping into into just years ago.

“Thank you, Tsunade-shisō. What you just said… is what I needed to hear, more than anything. I was afraid you might think I was being an ungrateful brat. Especially when you could’ve turned me away all those years ago. I’d still be ordinary, not someone worthy of even being _seen_ as your successor.”

Tsunade smiled warmly at Sakura. Maybe, in another life, if she and Dan had remained together and death hadn’t taken him, she would’ve wanted a daughter exactly like Sakura. Even if she had her own family, Sakura was still part of hers. Maybe it wasn’t something she’d admit out loud—because of her rotten luck of people dear to her being taken away—but it was something she felt, vocalized or no.

“Don’t be apologetic, Sakura. You know as well as I that women like us speak with our actions. Kick their asses, but make sure you don’t make so much of a mess, got it?”

* * *

In the days since the war had ceased, the Konoha Intelligence Division was as intimidating as ever. A plain, concrete facade greeted all who stood before it, feeling unpleasant energies radiate from it with fulsome waves. Since the war ended, the building itself was one of the few able to remain intact, and one of the first prioritized to be repaired. With the vacuum of power the Akatsuki had left behind, missing-nin across the world were wreaking havoc, stretching their resources thin. It was a wonder she’d gotten a chance to speak with Ibiki Morino at all.

In order for her plan for a mental health clinic to be facilitated at all, she needed more knowledge than she presently had. And as it stood, she didn’t exactly have that.

What’s more, someone dear to her that she hadn’t seen in months was here, and seeing him was just as important as that. They hadn’t spoken because it was simply what had been directed of her, and because being Captain of the Medic Corps devoured up so much of her time that she hadn’t possessed enough free time to see Sasuke, even if she’d wanted to. It had been since October, around the middle of the month when those chaotic few days had sprung up around Naruto’s birthday and the war to end all wars had flourished. Sakura felt guilty, but she’d been as powerless to prevent this as much as much as she had the war.

Once she was finished with Ibiki, she’d sit down and speak with him. No matter how resistant, she’d get the truth she knew had been kept from her for far too long.

Where places like the Konoha Hospital were bright and contemporary, the floors were rough concrete and mortar of heavy cement blocks, ceilings solid and bland colors while rows of florescent lighting illuminated the narrow corridors and small offices that lined the entrance. An enormous bulletin board was situated beneath a larger sign directed those entering to the right where the prison occupied a few good stories, and then to the left where the many other divisions were planted.

From what Sakura had been told by one of Morino’s personal aides weeks before when she’d inquired in the first place, the Konoha Torture and Interrogation Force were located in the second subterranean floor beneath the building, several stories deep compared to the complex above ground.

A pair of grim-faced chūnin occupied a security desk while another few guarded the three entryways and elevator on the ground floor, preventing any unwarranted entry. “Sakura Haruno?” one of them stated the second he laid eyes on her, waving her over to the desk. Striding towards it, she stood ramrod straight. Passed a visitor’s badge on a lanyard, quickly did she put it on over her head, situating it neatly against her qipao top. “Tamaki-san will take you to Morino-sensei.”

Though it wasn’t the warmest introduction, at that point, Sakura had too many butterflies in her stomach to really care. Tamaki himself was dressed in standard issue shinobi garb and the flak jacket like the rest of them, the Uzumaki clan spiral staring at her dizzily as the taller man shepherded her towards the elevator. “Step inside, please,” he directed, clear that he wasn’t looking to make any friends.

She rode down in silence before Tamaki took her to a pair of steely double doors and ushered her through before inclining his head slightly in farewell, wordlessly proceeding through. Sakura’s heart climbed into her throat; it was funny, but she’d faced battles less nerve-wracking than this. Maybe it was because, whether medical work or battling, those were fields she was familiar with. Something like this, that involved the mind and all its particulars, were things she wasn’t nearly as adept with. At least in the company of veterans of psychological warfare.

It was in one of the interrogation rooms that Sakura was told to wait, in a classic observation room complete with a one-way window that fronted the room with a few chairs. Assuming she would be made to wait here, it was when Ibiki himself met her gaze through the glass, she froze a little. The man, in his black head-wrapping and trench coat, was exactly the same as what he donned during the first part of the Chūnin Exams years ago.

A door next to the window swung open and the heavy feeling of anticipation lightened a little when she was faced with the firm countenance of Ibiki himself, nodding his head in acknowledgment before gesturing her over. Wordlessly, and obediently, she followed suit if only because the place didn’t feel like the sort of place you made casual conversation in.

“You’re doing an interrogation,” Sakura noted the moment they walked over the threshold, Ibiki’s jaw set grimly.

“If you’re serious about learning this, you need to be faced with the reality. Learning psychological warfare isn’t just reading books and learning about the mind. If you want to do as you intend, well…” Ibiki ceased speaking as he nodded grimly towards the person being interrogated, Sakura recognizing the Kiri hitai-ate almost immediately. The long, deep slash dragged across its gleaming surface was indication enough of where his loyalties lay. Though she wasn’t particularly shocked by it—as missing-nin activity had jumped considerably after the war—she started when the man doing the interrogation turned and faced her prominently. Aside from standard issue shinobi wear, his long, high ponytail denoted he was a member of the Yamanaka clan, a detail made extremely evident when his hands created a triangular frame that was recognizable for the Hiden that would be invoked.

Sakura didn’t even have time to scream or cry out when the Psycho Mind Transmission, a signature technique of the Analysis Team, collided with her mind like a bullet train.

Instead of just being the collision between consciousnesses, she saw Sasuke's form hurtling towards her on those ruddy brown cliffs, hand cloaked in purple chakra with the chattering of Chidori as it was seconds from impaling her chest like before. A slate gray body shaped like her own interceded and halted the advance with a fierce scowl on her features, opaque, glowing eyes radiant with a rage all their own.

_SHANNARŌŌŌŌ_

Sakura watched as Inner Sakura charged towards the impostor Sasuke and charged chakra into her fist before punching the ground ferociously, fissures tearing through the illusion as Sakura herself crumpled to her knees, breathing hard as the smirking visage of Ibiki met her before deadpanning, the Yamanaka man similarly cold and stoic.

It was only then that she suddenly lunged for the man with a furious battle cry, Sakura leapt several feet towards him and barreled the brunet into the wall, the impact cratering and causing the walls and floor itself to shudder. Tremors reverberated loudly as the girl pinned him with a furious expression, lips pulled back in a livid snarl. Fist poised to punch him, she roared, “What the _HELL_ was that for?!”

Of the ninja that had rushed forth reflexively, only Ibiki was the one who remained unfazed and motionless among them. Not even a look had his people stand down before the man approached her, stopping short of just a meter or more.

“Santa, how many seconds was that?”

“No more than seven, sir,” the Yamanaka croaked before Sakura fixed him with an indignant but bewildered stare, mouth slightly ajar.

“Can someone explain to me what the _hell_ is going on?!” Sakura demanded, nostrils flaring.

With a gesture did Ibiki wordlessly instruct Sakura to release her vice on the Yamanaka’s throat, stepping away while he recovered with but a cough and joined Ibiki’s flank alongside the others.

“Haruno-san, what you’re asking is to be tutored in one of the most intensive and merciless fields of ninjutsu, perhaps even being _the_ most. Under Lady Fifth, your body may have been pushed to its limit, but under my wing, your mind will face no quarter. Our bodies have the luxury of being a medium between the outside world and the mind. The mind itself has no such defenses.” Striding a few steps closer, while instinct might have moved her a few paces back, she stood rooted in place, Ibiki now just half a meter away from her, looming tall and imposing. “What you succeeded in doing was break an A-rank genjutsu that only our top members are capable of breaking, let alone that quickly. You were a genjutsu-type originally, weren’t you?”

“Yes… I was,” Sakura confirmed haltingly, finding herself at a loss for words. As far as she could tell, the prefaced warning and satisfaction over breaking the apparent genjutsu had been something of a hazing ritual, or something of the sort.

Nodding, Ibiki glanced back at his men. “All of you, back to your posts. Yamanaka, proceed with the interrogation. You know what you’re looking for, so don’t leave this room until you get it. Haruno, my office.”

As the other shinobi dispersed through the doors, she and Morino were the last two to leave while a strangled caterwaul followed in their wake before being eerily cut off once the double, sound-proof doors swung shut. Though Sakura internally shuddered, she deadpanned as much as the stone-faced Morino, determined to maintain this unexpected level of respect she’d somehow garnered.

The staccato of their strides were the only sounds that cut through the gloom, as utterly and completely quiet as a mausoleum. Ibiki’s words hung heavily on her; if that genjutsu was just a taste of what was to come, did she have the mettle to keep pressing on? Tsunade’s training had been immeasurably difficult, but the man had made a point. With physical training, a body stood in the way of pain. With the mind, unless someone had an extremely strong will or dedicated Yin Release techniques that could break such techniques—or a keen ability to break genjutsu at all—it was immensely difficult to think of surviving them. Sakura was lucky she had Inner Sakura, which could be both defense against mind breaching or genjutsu, and also act as a powerful offense if need be.

When the pair arrived at a single door commanding the end of the hall—having passed several other office doors—Ibiki opened the door for Sakura and ushered her inside. Waiting was a simple room and windowless office with spartan appointments; a single desk with a large calendar behind it, a clunky and dusty desktop computer, a creaky wooden chair, and several filing cabinets that touched the low ceiling and dominated all four walls with a wooden ladder kept in one of the corners. It wasn’t supposed to be comfortable, but spoke volumes of the modesty and dedication Morino had to his line of work.

As soon as the shinobi shut the door behind him with a soft click, he skirted around the her and the desk to ease into his seat while Sakura sank into one of the two situated before his own. Oddly enough, his demeanor seemed much calmer. Almost like how he’d been after she and the other candidates passed the first leg of the Chūnin Exams.

“Sorry about that little show back there. You understand how it is, don’t you?” Morino began as he broke the silence, folding his arms on the desktop runner.

“Yeah. Sure, it was a little shocking, but if I wanted the welcome wagon, I probably wouldn’t be in the Torture and Interrogation Department of the Intelligence Division.” Sakura’s smile was wry, and Ibiki scoffed in amusement.

“Our welcome wagons are bit bumpier than most, but I meant what I said back there. While I wouldn’t think Lady Fifth’s celebrated disciple would take an interest in our humble little operation, I’d like to hear more from you, personally, why you think I should take you on as a student, Haruno-san.”

Sakura sat straighter in her seat, hands settling nearly on her lap her, eyes brimming with resolve. “Since the war has ended, everything looks alright. People are pitching in to rebuild the village better than it was before, and I think a lot of them are right in saying that we’re entering a new era where wars probably won’t be as commonplace. Hell, some are even speculating that shinobi won’t be as in demand as they used to be, either.” Sakura’s gaze lowered, thoughtful. “But, the war hasn’t ended for everyone. I work in the hospital, and lots of people from children to the elderly aren’t alright. We’ve gotten a lot of suicide attempts in the past several months, some can’t even leave their beds, and others… we can’t even begin to guess what’s wrong. I think it has to do with mental health, but outside of psychological warfare, there’s no body of medicine I can turn to to begin treating it. Let alone treating them outside of any physical symptoms. It’s why I want to start a new kind of clinic with Ino, my friend. We’re going to start with children first, but if we can make some kind of headway…”

“You really are Lady Fifth’s disciple, Haruno-san.”

Sakura glanced upwards sharply, brows furrowing at the sight of Morino smiling rather than any other expression she could’ve thought to anticipate. Instead of answering, she remained silent, the man having yet more to say.

“I remember my own parents telling tale of this… upstart of a woman, Hashirama’s granddaughter, who yanked down the village’s nose into a matter that hadn’t been unearthed before. She revolutionized the entire medical field among shinobi at a great personal cost, but did it all the same. And you’re digging right now in the same way she had, in a different hole.”

The fatherly look on his face flattened into one of the legendary interrogator the village knew him as, steepling his fingers together, gaze cutting and uncompromising. “If you plan on being half the woman Lady Fifth is and going as far, don’t think I’ll be your friend through this. You’re a kunoichi of the Leaf, and from here on out, I’m your commending officer. You may refer to me solely as ‘sir’, ‘Morino-san’, or ‘Morino-sensei.’ As soon as you’re finished with your duties at the hospital during the daytime, you’ll have a window of two to three hours to recoup, but from that time until midnight sharp you’ll be under my charge. Even the slightest lack of effort or lateness or any other insubordination on your part will see me terminating this arrangement. If not myself, then you’ll answer to Yamanaka-san. Am I perfectly clear, Haruno-san?” he barked while standing abruptly in his seat, Sakura emulating the motion.

“Yes, Morino-sensei!”

Morino grunted in response, settling back into his seat. “You’re dismissed. You have work to concern yourself with tomorrow, and then the real trial by fire begins after.” Booting up his computer, his hard gaze practically bored into the brightening screen.

“Morino-sensei, there’s someone I wanted to see…”

“Go to the front desk,” he interrupted dismissively, “and ask them for whatever favor you want. Now go.”

Bowing to him, wordlessly did Sakura then slip through the door of his office and left him to be.


	3. Chapter 3

Warning(s): T, none

* * *

Before she left, Ibiki gave her something significant: a chakra-infused dog tag she would clip and wear on her flak jacket zipper and he informed her that it would change color the more clearance she was granted. Right then and there, it had little more access than a general visitation pass, and Sakura would require permission with one of the higher officers in the T&I Force. But, as it stood, she was one of them now. 

It felt odd, Sakura had to admit, as she studied the nondescript dog tag with her name, ninja identification number, and the designation to the T&I Force that reflected the cold, florescent light dully. It felt grounding. Like this was the realization of her next lot in life, of the road and where it would continue to take her. It felt rewarding that her perseverance would see her changing her path despite it only being a few days thus far, something she’d never take for granted.

When she came to the front desk, having elected to take the stairs instead of the elevator, the Chūnin present there received her amiably enough, and when Sakura requested to have a moment to visit Sasuke, one look at her dog tag and no further questions were required. Already, this newfound affiliation was beginning to show its perks.

The glow of feeling accomplished faded quickly when Sakura entered the prison proper, the initial security offices and the wardens behind reinforced glass gave her a once-over, and once she confirmed who it was she was visiting, asked her to sign in on a clipboard and informed her of where to find him.

Although she tried not to let it show, after descending to one of the deepest subterranean floors, Sakura shuddered from both the damp chill and the guilt eating her alive. She could only begin to imagine what Sasuke thought of her and Naruto. After all, with Tsunade warming Kakashi’s seat until he was finally ready, she of all people could leverage at least some word to see Sasuke freed or treated better. But as far as the village was concerned, he was as good as being the next Madara Uchiha.

Steadily did she venture towards his cell with trepidation. If anything was for absolutely certain, it was how immensely overwhelming the prison complex was below the surface. In the dimness did the damp chill cling to her form, exposed parts of her skin prickling with goosebumps in an attempt to stave away the chill.

Inside, Sasuke was seated on an ironwork bed frame with a thin mattress, a combination sink and toilet unit occupying the far back corner, but otherwise contained nothing. Leaning against the catwalk's frame, like an iron link fence did it only serve as a mocking reminder to the caged bird of how futile it was to search for the sky.

“Sasuke-kun.”

Wearing a blindfold over the heavy wool cloak that acted as a straitjacket, Sakura was unable to help the quaver in her voice. The Uchiha directed his gaze towards her, mouth set in a thin line that showed no true reaction that was positive or negative with the addition of his presence. “Sakura. What are you doing here?” he asked evenly, a boil of emotions circulating in the girl. At once, he was both her greatest torment and heaviest feeling of guilt, feet not knowing whether to sink deep into the ocean with breeze blocks tied to her feet, or pick her body up and flee from the place and never look back before he stabbed her through the heart with Chidori again. The chorus of chirping was a suffocating sound in her mind, feeling bile and nausea rising alongside fear in her throat.

“We need to talk. There’s something I’m not being told, and Kakashi-sensei and Naruto won’t say a thing. I just… I can’t be left in the dark. I’m a member of Team 7, too!” Sakura’s voice echoed eerily, fading into silence.

Sasuke only smiled grimly at that. “So, what? That’s it? Your reason for visiting me is entirely selfish and not because you were worried about the _love of your life_?” That he said with particular condescension, Sakura clamping her jaw indigently despite how strongly the feelings there still stubbornly persisted.

Gripping the bars and rattling them, Sakura seethed at him. “I’m trying to help you, actually! But in order for me to do that, I need to know the truth everyone else refuses to tell me! You of all people should understand how it feels to have something so monumental dangled over your head but denied it at every turn!” she railed with a passionate punch towards the metal, the resonating clangor holding the long, tense note between them. “…Can you trust me even a little? Like back then?”

Sasuke’s head bowed with thought, gritting his teeth soundlessly. “You want to know about the Uchiha Massacre,” he surmised drolly.

“Hang on, don’t you mean the Uchiha Clan Downfall?”

Sasuke shook his head. “It wasn’t a downfall. For years, the Uchiha were put under the Hokage’s thumb all because of what my ancestor did. My father was close to plotting a coup against them, but one thing led to another and the Konoha Council decided that genocide was their only alternative. My brother was put up to it at the time despite being only a kid. Him, and Obito.”

Sakura felt her throat go dry with the sudden revelation, clutching the bars until her knuckles blanched. “You mean… your brother, when he was just a kid…”

“He was given the choice of either letting the coup happen and all of us dying, or killing everyone but me. Either way, we wouldn’t have made it out alive.”

Sakura staggered back against the catwalk’s railing and the chain link barrier that rattled as she sagged into it. “Even the innocent people? Even the children?” she demanded through grit teeth, feeling her hands tremble.

Sasuke’s silence was confirmation enough.

The kunoichi sunk down until she crumpled, legs akimbo as the truth drowned her like the eddies of a ruthless flood. She knew better than to think the Hokage or anyone else in government was innocent of all wrong-doing, that innocent people dying wasn’t part of what they did. She wasn’t naive enough to think she wasn’t culpable for harming the odd person, however unintentionally. This, however… it was at an unprecedented level. Indignation, mournfulness, and the sheer impact of this realization are all that arrested her against the cool metal. Sakura closed her eyes for a moment, feeling Sasuke’s eyes on her even through his blindfold.

“And no one outside of us knows?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I don’t know how deeply this cover up goes, because Obito only told me so much.” Sasuke’s voice sounded rough, something exhumed.

Sakura gathered herself to her feet and suddenly remembered the coolness of the dog tag against her throat, staring at it hard. “I’ll make them face the music. Don’t think for a second I’m just going to hang uselessly back.”

Sasuke rose from the bench and stood close to the bars, regarding Sakura with a severe air. “There’s no reason for you to get involved in this, Sakura. You could turn back and forget you heard any of this.” Even if Sasuke wasn’t capable of loving her the way she wished, even if she’d only ever be a pest in his eyes, Team 7 still meant the world to Sasuke, that much Sakura knew. Even if it’d remain unspoken.

Her lips pursed, but the kunoichi’s mind was made. “I’m not doing this for you. Naruto and I made a lot of dumb mistakes trying to get you back, but whatever I think I owe you I’ve already paid in full. You two would be dead if I hadn’t healed you, remember?” At that, a wan smirk crossed his features, and she matched it, feeling as though a barrier had been lowered, as unspoken as it was. He didn’t feel like so much of a nameless terror, even if being around him still made Sakura wary.

Though she knew who and for what reason she would need to leave Sasuke alone again, that didn’t make the prospect of leaving him alone again any easier. There was still a tremendous amount that needed to be resolved between them, but bridging the divide was enough of a start for her.

“I don’t have the right to ask anything of you, but… Can you do one thing for me?” Sasuke perked up at that, teal eyes imploring on him. “Can you have faith in me? That’s all I ask. Faith that I can move forwards with this, and to do the right thing?” Her throat closed from the swell of emotions, but if anyone could understand, it was Sasuke.

“…Yeah."

* * *

It was without ceremony that Sakura stormed into Ibiki’s office, the door slamming into one of his filing cabinets before kicking it shut again just as forcefully. The auburn-haired Santa Yamanaka stared at her incredulously before deferring towards Ibiki who silently waited for Sakura’s justification for her interruption with a hard look.

And she did just that, slamming both palms on his desk and leaning in to seethe in the man’s face. “Tell me everything you know about the Uchiha Massacre!”

At that, Ibiki fixed her with a hard stare, curtly replying, “The Uchiha Clan _Downfall_.”

“You know exactly what the hell I mean.”

At her uncompromising stare, Ibiki leaned back with a sigh. “I do. But what would you do with this information if I told you, Haruno?”

Despite knowing she could likely be jumping the gun, Sakura knew it was too late to stop while she was ahead. “I’m going to expose it, all of it, and bring anyone involved who’s still alive to justice!”

Waiting until the quiet spanned between them, it were almost as if Ibiki were hanging a storm above their heads. A power move even she could recognize. “The war that just ended saw not one, but three of the last Uchiha on the planet involved, and not for the better. Let’s imagine, in the best case scenario, that you had all the evidence, all the people responsible hung by their own petards, with absolutely no way of anyone having a supported opposition to rule against these verdicts. This isn’t fighting a winning battle, Haruno-san. The levels of destruction and madness we just emerged out of were of a like we’ll probably never see again, and a great deal of it was orchestrated by a clan I’ve yet to see anyone feel sorry for, outside of you, Uzumaki, and Hatake. If you did this, it would be tantamount to committing social suicide you might not ever be able to bounce back from.”

He made good points; of course he did. Morino didn’t speak from a place of spite, but of pragmatism. Of a man likely more gifted in the art of compassion because he was a torturer, who had seen many sides of people few would ever get to in their lifetimes. More than a fitting teacher, it was why he’d been the first person Sakura had gone to and not even her own Tsunade-shisō.

“My family is alive, you know,” Sakura said in a softer tone, withdrawing her hands from his desk. “From when I was a child, to now as I stand before you, I was never forced down any of the paths I took. I worked hard, and my family supported me, despite being civilians. I got to where I am now because of hard work and the sheer determination to be where I am, but…” Her gaze was earnest on Morino, folding her arms. “I don’t know what it’s like to lose an entire community of people to genocide, or live with the feeling of being hated for circumstances completely beyond my control. Maybe I was bullied for not being part of a clan, and maybe I wish I had been born with some cool, secret background. But outside of here? Being part of a clan isn’t a guarantee of greatness. In fact, for a lot of people, it can mean their end. But… I don’t know that kind of suffering. I was fortunate, because I chose my own life where so many people don’t. It’s why I can do this. Why I can shoulder a larger burden than others think I can. It’s why I have to.”

Wordlessly, the imposingly tall Ibiki Morino rose to skirt slowly around his desk, placing a firm and fatherly hand on Sakura’s shoulder, nodding obliquely. “I was only a pencil-pushing grunt when I started out in T&I when the Kyūbi attacked. But now, I’m head of it. I don’t have some sob story to explain my rise as a Tokubetsu Jōnin, because there’s no need for it. Sakura… this won’t be easy. But if your fire burns as hotly as you know it does, at the very least, Santa and I can help in our own ways.”

“Huh? Santa, too?” Sakura chirped in surprise, glancing at the Yamanaka.

“My mother was part Uzumaki. What happened to our clan isn’t so different than what befell the Uchiha,” Santa stated with a grim line on his lips, crossing his arms while leaning against one of the towering filing cabinets. “We’re in a new era, too. We can’t move forward as a village if the crimes of the past continue to rot in the ground instead of being properly resolved and buried.”

“Haruno,” Ibiki addressed sharply, “speak of this to no one. After your shift at the Medic Corps tomorrow, you’re to report here to my office. Yamanaka, you too. As far as anyone else needs to be concerned, you’re reporting for work, and you, Haruno, are beginning your training to go towards that children’s psychiatric clinic you’re so determined to begin. We’re not going to mention a word of this until we can get a fat case file under the Hokage’s nose and be sure we’ll have enough to take this to court, am I clear?”

At that, Santa and Sakura stood up, bowing towards their commanding officer.

“Yes, sir!”


	4. Chapter 4

Warning(s): T, brief asphyxiation scene

* * *

It was quiet. Snow fell on a sea of faces she couldn’t even recognize. Clad in a long-sleeved black top and light beige skirt, and black booties, her head was bowed and her eyes were trained obliquely between the shoulders and tresses of hair of those before her and the silhouetted shapes of an altar with many small picture frames glossed over in silvery, filmy moonlight. The faraway black outlines and shapes of the temple complex and forests like waves about to overtake a small island in the gloom, the sky otherwise a starless expanse of dark, foggy sable. Like fog, like the borders of reality and this particular place were inscrutable, somewhere between the downy edges of a nightmare and daydream. 

Seated at the end of this particular row, only one other was as solid as her, head of long blonde trailing long past her hips when she’d stopped wearing her hair up in a ponytail, genuflecting before the altar where the portrait of Inoichi stood out among the many, stoic and motionless, forever preserved in time. Slowly, Ino rose and strode slowly down the aisle. The faces besides their own were indistinct and blurry. Ino stopped at Sakura’s row, sighing and turning to her best friend.

“I don’t think it’s any fault of the genjutsu that you can’t see their faces. I was crying so hard that everyone looked blurred… and the sky a little bit darker in my head. But, dad’s face? Like hell I could ever forget this altar,” Ino mused as she turned towards the altar with a pained smile, shaking her head while a hand gripped the head of an empty chair. “You’re calling this the ‘Mind Palace’ genjutsu, right? We _have_ to be breaking some ethical rules by testing it on ourselves.” Said with a brief snort, Sakura smiled back.

“Something like that. Plus, there’s more than one, don’t forget.”

A final smile on Ino’s behalf was exchanged before the fog and gloominess faded away and all went black, Sakura sat up sluggishly in her seat. Outside was another story, birds perched within trees outside the forest that bordered the outermost part of the Konoha Hospital campus, flowering trees in full-bloom alongside the frilly green lace of unfurling leaf buds, the wind itself sweet, temperatures mild and warm.

Though not allowed to learn the Analysis Team’s Hiden, Ino knew its signature technique—the Psycho Mind Transmission—and in turn had helped Sakura develop genjutsu based on its principles. After all, her own sensei, Tsunade, had gotten into trouble with the Clan Affairs Bureau decades ago after creating the Body Pathway Derangement after observing the Hyūga’s Gentle Fist. The Sandaime had been there to soothe any ruffled feathers, but outsiders making jutsu based on the prowess of even secret Hiden wasn’t anything new. That aside, as the new clan leader of the Yamanaka clan, Ino was in her right to divulge and teach what she wished, to a limited extent.

“It was really like that night, wasn’t it?” Ino said thoughtfully while swiveling her chair to face the open windows. “The cold, that huge altar… all of it. I guess I’m just glad you were there with me. _Kami_ , I still miss him so much…” The blonde sniffed and wiped a lone tear away, sighing heavily. She hugged the back of her seat, smiling sadly.

Wheeling her swivel chair closer to Ino, Sakura placed a hand on her friend’s forearm. “Sorry if… it was too soon.” She smiled apologetically, though Ino only looked touched.

“Hey, it’s okay, Sakura-chan. It actually does help. I haven’t spoken to anyone but you about that day, and actually going in and talking your way through a memory with someone… I think you’re on to something big here. I’m just glad to have a hand in it.” Propping her arms on the chair back, she rested her chin thoughtfully on her forearms. “Well, aside from your birthday being tonight, mind if I ask something myself?”

“Shoot,” Sakura said automatically, receptively.

“Okay, so, you’ve gone from full-time, to part-time, to on-call. Is everything okay, Sakura? Some of the other girls in the department were asking about you, if everything’s alright.”

Sakura’s face fell a little, especially at the realization that she couldn’t be totally honest with Ino, her best friend, when Ibiki’s reminder was set firmly at the forefront of her mind. Especially when it had been her doing to begin with.

“I’ve decided to fully commit to opening the mental health clinic,” Sakura said finally. “I spoke to Tsunade-shisō about it, about my future. I get it, I really do. To have trained under her and gained all her knowledge and more, let alone being able to really wield it, is something that sets me apart and that I should be endlessly grateful for. But, that doesn’t mean I can sit comfortably on the mountain she climbed her whole life, to just be set there. Much of the reason why Tsunade-shisō is so great as a Sannin isn’t just because of her medical skill or superhuman strength, but because she went through hell to pioneer the way for all med-nin, not just me. To make it so more people lived instead of died. If I want to be a worthy successor, this is the path I have to be on. This is my niche to carve out, where I can do the most good. And I intend on sticking out with it through the bitter end.”

Without warning, Ino moved closer to pull Sakura into a tight hug, the older of the two widening her eyes in surprise at such a gesture. Yet, as the moment wore on, Sakura succumbed to the warmth of Ino’s touch, feeling like something she didn’t know she needed. Though she’d been born an only child, Ino was like the sister she’d never had. It had been that way from the very beginning, the more she thought about it.

“I’m proud of you, Sakura. You’ve always known where to go when you were stuck in a rut, and I’m just happy to be part of this dream of yours,” Ino said once they pulled apart, arms lingering before withdrawing entirely.

“ _Our_ dream,” Sakura corrected softly.

“Right, our dream, and don’t you forget it!” Ino enthused with a broad grin.

* * *

Later that day, as it was her birthday, Sakura was given the rest of the afternoon off where she spent the next few hours celebrating with Ino and Naruto at Ichiraku Ramen. Though it wasn’t her first choice of a venue, given Sasuke’s own predicament and the abyss she was gazing into that she would plunge into within the coming weeks to months, it was a bright milestone she knew she’d want to be able to look back on. Throughout it, she couldn’t help but notice how close Ino and Naruto were, how the looks they exchanged were a little more than just friendly. Though Sakura wasn’t willing to tease them there, it was something to look out for.

She was happy for them, she really was. Especially when they looked so good together. Maybe she’d ask Ino about it, later.

As the sun was sinking low on the horizon, Sakura checked a wall clock above Teuchi and Ayame’s heads, starting at the time. Bidding her friends farewell, she left them to themselves in the lovely spring evening. As far as Sakura could see, they seemed primed for some alone time together while she had something far more sordid to be concerned with for the rest of the night.

For the past three months or so, the imposing, faceless facade of the Intelligence Division building that had once intimidated her for so long, but as the weeks had worn on, had become more of a comfort than anything. Her nights were often growing so long that an area she’d been granted—belonging to a long-defunct honor guard from the era of the Third Shinobi World War—had been where Sakura had carved out something of a home for herself.

A former conference room with floors of rough concrete and boxed in by rougher stone and mortar with a ceiling of bland white above her head was the largest space. Though bereft of windows, the florescent lighting had grown dim from disuse, a murky beige glow throughout. At its center was a round table scattered with documents and file folders, books and notebooks scrawled with her writing. Nearby, against the wall, was an old, stately wooden desk with an old computer and shelves hanging over it, all weighed with files and case files. Outside of it was a corridor where three rooms led into a well-stocked industrial kitchen she’d filled with provisions, a locker and wet room with toilets and open showers, and next to that was a barracks room able to comfortably house five people on bunk beds with a wardrobe. At the end of the hall parallel to the conference room was the stairwell that led her into the the Intelligence Division.

In the last several weeks, Sakura had made this her home. With work being as intense as it was, her parents understood and had given Sakura their blessings, and had even helped her seal several bundles worth of scrolls she utilized to help make her personalize it, as well as make it livable. Though she didn’t do anything drastic, it looked much homier.

Hell, even her identification tag had changed color. From the grunts’ blue, to rookie orange, was it now purple that denoted her as a low-level but special member of the T&I Force and established her as one of Ibiki’s right hand men—or, woman in this case.

Hanging her bag on an old coat rack by the conference room door, Sakura then dashed into the bedroom to change out of her civvies and into her Chūnin uniform, special dog tag and all. Aside from being necessary to move throughout the building, it was much warmer to wear. That, and it was her officially mandated uniform for as long as she was there, which was often.

Given that Ibiki hadn’t paged her the day’s assignment through the antiquated intercom system set up in every room in the building, the intercom mounted to the wall next to her desk had yet to be ringed. It was on days like today that left Sakura free to spend how she liked, and as long as her work was relevant to either the Uchiha Massacre or the psychology pursuits and manuals she was constructing, it was self-paced but rigorous.

For the next several hours, unless interrupted, her plan was as usual: she’d spend half her time going through case files and other reports relevant to mental health, and begin building profiles of symptoms and see correlations, if there weren’t deeper causes like proper mental illness. Ino did much in the same regard when not working as Head of the Barrier Team, except her cases were far… tamer, in a word. War veterans, those patients both girls had spoken to in talk therapy in the daytime, constructing profiles for specific mental illnesses that emerged in patterns and then collaborating together to corroborate their findings. It was what Sakura usually did, but not the bulk.

Thanks to Ibiki’s level of clearance, he was able to procure documents and reports from ROOT itself. With Anbu operating out of the Intelligence Division, and with ROOT having no leader after Danzō’s death, it had fallen to Ibiki to keep their affairs in utmost secrecy… until now. Especially since Santa had been promoted to Head of the Analysis Team after the war, it meant that they had two sources of intel, even though Sakura understood what a monumental risk it was and how all three of them could be charged with treason if discovered by the wrong people.

For several hours, Sakura pushed through her work. It was only at 11 PM, while perched on a worn out sofa near her desk reading a particularly long-winded document of an interrogation transcript before the intercom chimed, Sakura lifting weary eyes to see the light flashing of the particular channel she knew. Setting her reading aside, she craned over to tap the receiver and listen.

“Haruno, you’re to join Yamanaka and myself to the maximum security quadrant of the prison. Be here in fifteen, over.”

Though he didn’t give her chance to reply, there was no need to. Sakura had gotten used to his terse words, especially as both his student and subordinate. Setting aside her work, she made a mental note of where she left off and departed from her bunker.

Sakura would be lying if she weren’t a little bit apprehensive. Though Ibiki was a harsh teacher, his level of intensity wasn’t so different from Tsunade herself. This apprehension had little to do with the thought of a teaching session so much as the significant weight of foreboding. Usually, when he summoned her for tutoring, it was either Ibiki or Santa alone, never at the same time. This meant it was something monumental she wouldn’t be able to begin to imagine until actually faced with it.

Ibiki and Santa were waiting for her beside the sliding, heavy mechanical door to a wide freight elevator. “Haruno,” Ibiki greeted before turning to Santa who entered a code into a keypad beside the ingress. The door opened, screeching on worn gears, while the trio then stepped inside, completely quiet until the door closed shut and the mechanisms squealed before making its descent, light disappearing save for the wan, filmy illumination of that which lined the elevator enclosure.

The clatter of cables lowering them down the elevator shaft was like an alarm, Ibiki only then deigning it fit to speak.

“Your… Inner Sakura, that can be summoned at any time, right?” he asked suddenly, hands pocketed and stoic as ever.

Sakura glanced at the man, rays of light cutting through openings in the door as they moved down floors, highlighting the severe planes of his face gravely. “Yes, I can,” she affirmed, voice mingling with uncertainly despite its quiet.

“Good. Keep her on guard. You might need her,” was all he said otherwise, the rest of the journey made in uneasy silence.

The suspense rose as the grating of metal had the egress open to a damp, chilly corridor lined with cold, inhospitable steel and flickering coronas of wan light, as if shivering from the frigidity. Sakura was glad she’d resorted to layering her clothing, though her exposed hands trembled somewhat. Clasping her hands together, they blanched from more than just the chilliness.

Ibiki led them first in single file, Sakura between him and Santa, their footfalls falling in unison of one another. Ibiki halted before the door and they followed suit, entering another pin to a keypad and flattening his palm on a palm reader, a red light flickering to green and a buzzer sounding as they advanced through. Inside was a kind of observation chamber, the sort with one-way glass to allow the witnessing of an interrogation, but that wasn’t what took Sakura aback to the point of almost not entering at all.

Suspended in a crucifixion pose was an unconscious Madara Uchiha, tethered to a cross-frame composed of what she could identify as chakra inhibitors, wires protruding from him and pumping sickening glowing energy from him that glowed a malicious scarlet, something she could identify as chakra draining mechanisms, likely due to the enormous reservoirs of chakra he possessed.

“Because of Hashirama’s cells, he doesn’t need to eat, or sleep. Hell, I wonder if he’s even capable of dying,” Ibiki remarked once all three were within the observation chamber, answering the question Sakura had before she’d even thought of herself: _how the hell was he still alive?_

Sakura’s hands balled into fists as she began trembling in earnest, but not from the cold. If anything, that chill was forgotten in the white-hot deluge of anger and reawakened grief surged within like magma pouring through her veins.

“Why the hell does he get to survive when so many others died because of him?!” Sakura railed passionately, wanting nothing more than to smash the glass through and clobber the Uchiha around herself. It was because of him that so many people had suffered, why the Uchiha were dead, why life had been lost so unnecessarily at the hands of his Akatsuki. Why Obito’s innocence had been stolen and turned against his own clan, part and parcel of the vast amounts of crime he’d unleashed, too. It all came back to him. Black Zetsu be damned, this man was responsible for so _much_.

“Sakura.” Morino’s voice cut through her anger like a deft, cool blade. She took pause, jaw setting and fists trembling, but receptive. “The reason I brought you here is because this is your ace in the hole. I understand your personal feelings, as does Santa. Don’t forget, he lost an uncle thanks to this bastard. But all the same, what you have before you is the alpha to the Uchiha Massacre, where it all began. Sasuke’s testimony will only sway people so much, but to hear from Madara Uchiha himself… that would be a reckoning even the village couldn’t conceive.” A hand touched her shoulder, that same, paternal concern that saw some of Sakura’s anger melt away. “He’s conscious. These walls are chakra resistant so he can’t sense us, and he’s too weak to escape from here. But, he can speak and listen. You’ll have two hour long sessions three times a week until you get the full story, so utilize them wisely.”

Lifting his hand again, he turned towards the door. “Yamanaka will remain here to supervise, and only he knows the codes besides me. I have to return to my duties, but… Good luck, Haruno. I have faith in you.” With those parting words, he turned and departed with a slow hiss of the door swinging shut behind him.

Though his words grounded her, Sakura felt a numb trickle of fear and anger inside of her as she fished through her rear pouch and produced a notepad and pen, taking a deep breath. Santa gave her a sympathetic look as he keyed in another code while hauling open the heavy metal door that fed into the holding chamber. There, the dense tang of sterilization was the most pronounced. Then, the shimmering sensation of the heat of machines working in overdrive to keep the man alive, but weakened and prone. As the door shut behind her with an airtight hiss, Madara’s eyes flickered open in tandem.

“The… last time I saw you, you… punched me in the skull as Kaguya…” His voice was hoarse with disuse, but a dark humor laced it. His limbs shifted restlessly in his binds, like he was trying to get comfortable. “Damn entrapment they have me in… Haven’t spoken to another person in months…”

“What, grandstanding how deranged you are to the world isn’t enough? Well, point taken. So, you can spare me that much, Madara,” Sakura growled at the man, feeling her pen begin to strain under the strength of her grip.

His lips curled into a ruthless smirk before issuing a hoarse series of laughs, frame rattling. The clear emissions tubes and the chakra they drained seemed to brighten in their pulsations, as if this alone had been enough to stir his chakra malevolently.

“Not afraid of me, I see? I suppose it’s easier when I’m as weak as you are, now.”

“Yeah, seeing as your powers aren’t being augmented with that of a goddess or a sentient tree,” Sakura bit back, keeping her steely gaze level with his. “I’m not here to play a game of insults. Seeing as you have more than enough time on your hands, and a lot of life to make up for, you’re going to start repaying those debts _now_.”

This wasn’t like before. In the two moments she’d been near him, she’d been choking on her own fear beneath her collected exterior, when he’d been an unbelievably powerful jinchūriki of none other than the Jūbi, a bijū on a level of power none of them would have ever believed possible if they hadn’t seen it for themselves. And that wasn’t amounting for the Rinnegan he possessed beforehand, something she could live without ever seeing again.

“Hm, a pity. It’s fun getting someone worked up after so long,” Madara quipped with a crooked smile, all before his features became neutral. “Unless you’re here to debate semantics.”

“I’m here to ask about circumstances surrounding the Uchiha Clan Massacre.”

Madara’s head reared slightly back by the limited angle it could in that brace, lips curling disdainfully. “What the hell do you even mean? The Uchiha fizzled out in the same way as the Senju. The slug brat was the last Senju as much as Sasuke is but one of two of us. You’re speaking nonsense, girl,” he hissed at her, eyes narrowing. “Talk sense before I get pissed off.”

“The Uchiha didn’t fizzle out. They were exterminated. By the village, and the boy _you_ ruined.”

Sakura spoke of Obito, a hard pill to swallow that Sasuke had told her when one of their sessions had yielded the truth of everything Obito had been told and taught. After Sasuke had killed Itachi and ‘Tobi’ had been the one to collect him and help him recover. That, and there were some words exchanged between she and Obito in the Kamui dimension that went beyond simply the hasty need to destroy the Rinnegan Obito had then possessed.

Though Sakura couldn’t see his eyes, she could tell it sank in as his body went rigid. Madara seemed to have frozen, but a faint pressure built at the corners of her vision as something external built, a tremor shaking the entire chamber that had her whipping her head in bewilderment to determine its source. Lights within flickered erratically, all before she felt a vice on her bicep wrenching her back.

“Sakura, we need to leave! The entire bottom floors are collapsing!” Santa called urgently, hauling her back due to still processing it before an enormous pillar of steel and concrete burst through the ceiling and smote the ground she’d been standing on, tearing through the metallic plates of the ceiling like tissue paper as it fell back destructively. Debris and showers of dust followed, the unsteady earth making it difficult to stand.

Instead, Sakura wrenched her arm free and fixed Santa with a pleading look. “Go! Let me handle this!”

Without waiting for his assent, Sakura’s hands mimed a frame that centered in on Madara, breathing in as she begun the genjutsu. The walls of the Uchiha’s mind had formidable blockades, but in the vulnerability of the moment were there chaotic holes, enough to worm through and grapple for some kind of control.

Sakura suddenly lurched forth to plunge by her hands into the Naka River, landing on all fours and preventing herself from falling in. Gaping at her own undulating reflection for a moment, she was on her feet again when a mournful howl cut through the summer warmth, rising in an anguished scream before it fell into sobbing, something that froze Sakura from how raw and aching that grief was.

Though the surroundings were familiar enough, she knew this was a scene from Madara’s memory she’d pulled them into, all in order to rectify this before others died. Leaping the width of the Naka River easily, Sakura dashed along its lush, tree-lined banks, searching for the source of the mourning.

“They’re dead—they’re gone because of me!” Sakura balked at his roar, just a few meters from the prickly black mane of the Uchiha as he prostrated on the ground, cratering beneath fists that beat it and clutched at his own hair. “They’re gone!”

Despite herself, even though she knew Madara would likely react explosively at her intrusive presence, she bit her lower lip as her eyes prickled with tears, not even bothering to stop them as they shed. Burning down her cheeks, she could only bow her head. “Yeah… they’re gone. And it’s the village’s fault,” she said from a tightening throat, exhaling shakily.

It was within the moment that one of Madara’s arms moved and revealed a lone eye glaring hatefully at her, dark with grief and blindness, looking for something human to claw into. But, Sakura sternly reminded herself, she controlled this illusion. She could make him as powerless as an infant if need be.

“You’re _part_ of the village,” Madara spat, unfurling from his mourning with livid streaks of tears staining his cheeks, eyelids puffy, mad with hysteria, and causing a stone to drop down Sakura’s throat. The Uchiha stalked towards her with menace, lips curled back in a wolfish snarl. “You’re no different than them.”

His gloved hands came together around her throat, gaze livid with grief, breathing hard and wrathfully. Despite it, Sakura forced her features into a picture of calmness, teal eyes meeting his own, not fearlessly, but keeping level despite the wrath Madara Uchiha wielded. “I’m trying to bring down those responsible,” she said lowly, just as his grip tightened. “No one knows I’m doing this. Not yet.”

At that, his grip suddenly loosed and Madara took a disbelieving step back, glaring at Sakura. “ _Why?_ You’re among those who suffered under the Uchiha during the war, aren’t you? Of me, Obito—even Sasuke. You’re just an ordinary girl with no noble background or reason to be involved!”

Sakura’s hands balled into fists. “I know. But, it’s why I need your help or else your clan will continue to go down in history as a downfall that happened at the hands of a power-hungry killer and not a little boy backed into a corner with an impossible choice to make.”

Madara’s knees buckled as he sank into the grassy earth; the babbling of the river seemed to speak over them. It was a lucky thing this was only an illusion, else he could’ve truly crushed her throat. His eyes sank closed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes still red where Sakura could glimpse them at this distance. Thankfully, it wasn’t because of the Sharingan.

“It was… Uchiha who killed the Uchiha,” Madara laughed in disbelief, raking a hand through his unruly bangs. “It would be kinder to tear my heart out while I’m still conscious. Everything… the Mugen Tsukiyomi, all of it… was to protect them in paradise. So they wouldn’t know pain again, not…” Fresh tears slipped down the Uchiha’s cheeks, and his mouth twisted from his grief, but Sakura couldn’t bring herself to feel the indignation from before. Despite everything Madara had done, all he’d killed, she didn’t have the heart to be heartless. And it made her feel pitifully, unbearably human.

“It won’t bring them back, but maybe it could bring them peace,” Sakura said softly, the Uchiha unresponsive, but no longer patronizing or speaking down at her. It was a start, in its own way. She folded her arms, staring out at the river valley ahead.

Though Madara said nothing, his silence felt like acceptance. And for now, it was enough.

* * *

It would be hours before Sakura was able to return to her bunker within the building. After she’d been able to stabilize Madara, she’d broken the illusion and the man had fallen unconscious from the exertion. Though several support pillars had fallen, Ibiki informed her it was reparable in a manner that wouldn’t draw notice. With many other buildings sometimes succumbing to sinkholes, it was anomalous but not enough to trace back to them.

Dumping her belongings on the ground, Sakura unceremoniously flopped on the bottom bunk of on of the two bunk beds, old mattress squeaking in protest. The hum of florescent lights was louder than her own thoughts, blankly staring at a collage of photos affixed to the room’s sole wardrobe. The worn surface was dull frame for the photographs, soundless and distant, unable to connect the images with the memories they’d come from when the events of the day swallowed the whole of her thoughts.

Madara was still alive, and somehow going to be a speaking testimonial to the trial when it came around. Aside from even that, from Sasuke’s own perspective, there were still mountains of evidence and the like she needed to go through on top of her work for the psychiatry clinic. Sakura inhaled the musty sheets, strangely calmed. Like being tucked within the pages of an old book; they were clean, so it wasn’t as if hygiene was a worry.

Outside of Ibiki and Santa, who had burdens of their own to deal with, she couldn’t tell anyone within the whole of the village. Not Tsunade, Shizune, Ino, or even Naruto. And Sasuke had too many of his own problems to have to worry about hers, too.

At least, she didn’t have anyone **human**.

_Kuchiyose no Jutsu!_

After the puff of smoke dissipated, a cat-sized Katsuyu faced her with those gentle opaque eyes, and Sakura smiled so broadly she thought her face might split in two. Embracing the slug tightly, it was like hugging an old friend.

“Sakura-sama, are you alright?” the slug inquired in that gentler, whispery tone that set her heart at ease.

“I don’t know,” Sakura admitted honestly, automatically. “But I’d be a lot better with you around. Please, just stay with me. Stay here, Katsuyu-sama.”

Though slug was understandably perplexed, she didn’t protest when Sakura curled around her and hugged her close to her chest, sighing in relief. Thankfully, Katsuyu didn’t excrete nearly as much as any other slugs, and felt more like cool, smooth rubber than anything repugnant. The gastropod silently understood, tucking herself beneath Sakura’s chin.

“I wouldn’t mind doing that, Sakura-sama.”


	5. Chapter 5

Warning(s): T, none

* * *

A week had passed since then.

The more time she spent alone in the bunker, the more like home it felt. The drone of electricity through the florescent lights was simply becoming part of the background for her, the musty scent of old dust, books, and sheets like tucking herself between the pages of a dusty old tome forgotten by the world. With both Tsunade and Shizune aware of her known endeavors—especially Shizune who had been taking over many of her roles as acting Captain of the Medic Corps—the calls from the hospital asking her to fill in posts trickled down to nothingness. Until Sakura felt no need to habitually glance at the pager Tsunade had delegated her ages ago for hospital matters that sat beneath the heavy, clunky old computer monitor like a person huddling beneath an overpass from the rain.

That didn’t mean Sakura passed the time in restful solitude, however.

Katsuyu was becoming a regular fixture in the scenery of the bunker, to the point that she didn’t even bother disconnecting the tie here and had instead elected to let the palm-sized clone of herself remain. Sakura didn’t think they were anywhere nearly as close than they’d become in the past week, as the slug commonly associated with Tsunade in her years as an apprentice, even after she’d made her summoning contract with her at thirteen.

Though Sakura couldn’t put her finger on it, she felt as though Katsuyu were simmering with great secrets, something the kunoichi couldn’t help but dwell on whenever she watched the slug traverse slowly across the gnarly concrete floor of the conference room, quietly mapping the perimeter of the space despite how needless it was. Queries after her state of amusement yielded little, despite the brief pucker of bemusement that creased Sakura’s brow.

More than the idle wondering of what her beloved summon had on her mind, she dwelt more on trains of thought that wondered what a certain Uchiha ancestor was doing after their frenzied first meeting, of being suspended on that cold, brutal frame for so long.

Truthfully, Sakura had been frightened. Unlike the Kamui dimension she and Obito had sought temporary refuge, of the seconds they had before the ancestor’s appearance, godly Jinchūriki or no, she hadn’t felt nearly as frightened as she had when his hands closed around her neck. Even in an illusion, by her hand or not, the fathomless potential for power towered over her present ability. Though Sakura could acknowledge that her power exceeded past Tsunade’s, Madara had bisected her as if it were nothing. And this was discounting the presence of the Five Kage she’d fought alongside.

Yet, Obito had told her something. Ensnaring her in the only 'benevolent' genjutsu that disastrous day, in the breadth of milliseconds had time slowed to a crawl when they’d conversed. Before she’d even known about his hand in the massacre, an immaterial circumstance that had never wormed its way in beyond vague regrets he wouldn’t properly name, he’d told her something monumental: the exact location of the Mountains’ Graveyard, the base of operations Madara had made a home of for over sixty years.

The flickering lines of pixels of the computer monitor were mesmerizing in her reverie, Sakura suddenly became hyper-aware of her surroundings. With uncountable case files being delved into, her notes hundreds of pages through, it felt like a crop bit into her side to action.

Automatically did her finger press the call button of the intercom ensconced on the wall, knowing what she had to do.

“Morino-sensei? Do I have anything scheduled for the next few days? Because I’d like to request a few days’ leave to conduct a reconnaissance mission. I think it could be urgent.”

* * *

Leaving through one of the discreet tunnel exits that stemmed from the Intelligence Center, no one had to see her leave the village once she’d gotten Ibiki’s authorization to leave at all. Through the craggy darkness and dampness, relief would come upon surfacing again over a mile from the farthest border encompassing the whole of the ever-expanding village spilling into endless tracts of forests. Northeast from Konoha was her heading, somewhere between the Land of Sound and the Land of Waterfalls where Takigakure resided. The Land of Fangs, jutting as its own peninsula, was where her sojourn would take her.

The journey there was barely a day and a half. Passing through the Land of Fangs’ borders came with a sense of relief, the mellow beginning of twilight ushering with it a chorus of birdsong and spring breezes.

“Sakura-sama.”

Katsuyu’s murmur had Sakura halting short i the treetops, the leafy rustle of her sudden pause giving away her position she prayed wasn’t being tracked in the first place. Nimbly alighting to another branch, in a tree trunk’s lee did she pause to listen to her companion.

“Over there,” the slug indicated as her head directed towards and opening within the foliage, like a portal that unveiled a winding river that meandered through the forest floor and a waterfall that thundered dully in the distance away from it. Maybe it was a little cliché, but the way the sunlight caught on its turbulent waters so dazzlingly felt like a sign she had to follow. Following the plummet of it was easy enough, especially when the rocky embankments of the river led her straight towards it.

Sakura picked her way over uneasy stones, the silt-laden waters colored by the recent rains from the oppressive downpour she’d largely missed. Gradually, the shores of the river ascended into a river valley that forced her closer to the lukewarm eddies, a high bend shaded by veils of lacy foliage that cascaded into the valley. Dappled shadows passed overhead, and she knew something was hidden here.

Almost like walking into her past uncovering Akatsuki bases did a high, uniform stone wall of crude make greet her at its winding end, its arch framed by twin waterfalls that were smaller than the first, able to hear its clash and thunder from a buttress high above her head. Dense foliage and vines spilled into the serene pool, barely ankle deep as Sakura stepped carefully on stone. From where she stood, Sakura felt impossibly small before the secret she would be uncovering.

“What you find might change you, Sakura-sama,” Katsuyu cautioned as the kunoichi mulled over how she might enter, glancing once at her friend.

“I know, but it’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” Sakura said with a wry smile, egging Katsuyu perched on her shoulders with a fond nudge of the tip of her nose. “Besides, it’s a little late to turn back now. Maybe they’ve got a snack bar somewhere inside?” If Katsuyu could smirk, she was certain her summon could.

Katsuyu expectorated a stream of her _Tongue Tooth Sticky Acid_ offense that swiftly eroded through solid stone with a hiss. Though the acrid stench caused her nose to wrinkle some, it wasn’t totally unbearable, considering the convenience it posed then and there. As the fumigating remains of the stone collapsed with a hiss into the water, sunlight illuminated little through the hole.

Sakura wasted no more time as the humidity of the forest fell away, only to be greeted by the cool and damp air of the cavern inside. Igniting a chakra-powered torch, Katsuyu became a quiet that seemed to match the suspenseful atmosphere.

The light of her torch cast a far-reaching corona of light that only penetrated so far.

“The more I walk, the more I feel like I’m heading towards something inevitable,” Sakura confided, the silence becoming too oppressive between them. Her voice carried, but barely. “Maybe a little more than that, I just…” A fleeting glance was passed to the slug. “I feel like I don’t know you as much as I wish I did, Katsuyu-sama. All these years, and you’ve constantly been at Tsunade-shisō’s side, and it can’t be helped that I haven’t really gotten to know you, but…”

Maybe it was just because she was lonely.

That sudden line of thought stopped Sakura entirely, a cold clump of realization. _**Lonely?**_ _Where the hell did that come from?_ Inner Sakura scowled in her mind, even if Sakura’s outward expression didn’t quite match. Her alter-ego had come back to her in recent months, and if she were honest, Sakura liked having her around. Though, the question still remained: why did it matter when feeling lonely or not was the least of her concerns? Feeling isolated was normal, but…

It was the same. Compared to her friends, her troubles were ordinary; ordinary problems stemming from ordinary things. Like crying about getting mud on her new boots compared to someone who was drowning. Huffing to herself, it was stupid to be entertaining such thoughts now. Regardless, she had to focus on the task at hand and could play 20 Questions with Katsuyu later.

“…Forget it. Now really isn’t the time, anyways,” Sakura amended with a forced smile.

It was Katsuyu that nestled in closer to Sakura’s neck, almost feeling like an arm winding around it. “No, you’re right, Sakura-sama. There’s much you don’t know about me; secrets I’ve kept from even Tsunade-sama. But, I want to tell you when the time is right.”

If her initial line of thought had been enough to stop her, then Katsuyu’s promise renewed her pace.

“Okay, now you’re just being unfair, Katsuyu-sama. I think you just want this over and done, huh? Alright, alright—point taken,” Sakura said with a soft laugh, continuing their trek through the long, dusty corridor.

They continued in companionable silence for what felt like several minutes until that same oppressive air as when she’d met Madara became apparent. Being that the Land of Fire was in a naturally hotter region, and neighbored the Land of Wind, their springs tended to be as indistinguishably similar to its summers than anywhere else that had a difference between seasons. She assumed the Land of Fangs was similar.

The dark corridor suddenly brimmed with a rippling blue aura at what appeared to be a mouth, curiosity driving the kunoichi as she broke into a sprint and came to its opening in no time at all, almost grounded in awe of what she saw.

Suspended over a massive underground lake were mountainous, conical structures that descended like stalactites from the cavernously high ceilings and tapered into points dozens of meters above the water. Light that undulated from the lake below barely illuminated the underside of that point, each structure enormous enough could likely house thousands of people, she was sure. Grooved into them could she make out the definitions of streets, homes, and other places from afar, estimating that there had to be at a least a mile between the lake and the base of the cities themselves, the pathway she was trekking nearest to its zenith that provided a sweeping vista of them.

“These are Ōtsutsuki ruins, aren’t they?” Sakura surmised, voice subdued by her owe.

“Yes, Sakura-sama. Madara’s base of operations extends throughout the nations, and it contains ruins such as these,” Katsuyu explained, even if she didn’t seem nearly as taken. “It’s how he was able to move unseen for generations.”

“I see.”

* * *

It felt like hours would pass before she’d come to where they meant to be, even if the journey itself had pockets of wonder that existed in irregular ruins like the ones they saw, despite the spells of silence and boredom only alleviated by anecdotes of just years ago, despite how much Sakura felt far more inclined to weasel her way into diving into that tantalizing promise Katsuyu had made regarding those secrets, she pressed on intrepidly.

“We’re here.”

As they passed a narrow bend of a previously wider corridor, Sakura carefully navigated her way over the collapsed rubble and into what appeared to be a chamber, chakra-infused crystals reacting to her presence as they sparked to life and emitted a faint glow.

It seemed like a nexus point as several divergent entryways that branched from it, but that had little to do with what drew her awe. The dimness itself revealed a spartan room, an old, wooden bed with moth-ridden and decayed sheets in the back was it dominated by a throne-shaped split trunk with a low back, enormous, rusted tubes slung over its back while what they were affixed to snared her attention the most.

A man, protruding from the wild base of roots that tangled against wall and ceiling alike, a nexus that fanned throughout, jutted from feet above and from the trunk like something living. Its skin was of smooth bark that encompassed its waist, arms and hands frozen in agony despite the serene, smooth features of its face. Though bearing the same hue as the bark, if Sakura didn’t know any better, she’d swear it was a living person.

“Sakura-sama, would you mind if I investigated?” Katsuyu softly asked, snapping the kunoichi from her rapture. Nodding, she moved the slug from her hand to the ground, giving them both time to simply investigate as they liked.

When it felt as though Katsuyu had gone off to wander in one of the adjoining rooms, Sakura found herself entranced by the humanoid once again, curious. Moving up the pile of roots, she came face to face with the figure, realization dawning on her. It was Hashirama, the Shodai Hokage. Though its features had been difficult to discern from afar, the impossibly smooth likeness made it apparent.

Sakura had barely even met Hashirama, let alone spoken with him beyond watching him on the battlefield as much as he had her. Yet, watching him, hearing him speak through Ino into all of their minds… Involuntarily did the kunoichi’s cheeks warm, even though she couldn’t readily discern as to why.

Shaking her mind from that thought, she experimentally ran her forefinger over one of the being’s open palms, yielding a finger twitch. Sure that it wasn’t a trap, Sakura did it again, regretting it the instant she did.

The hand feinted and suddenly seized her wrist in a vice, Sakura’s eyes widening in surprise. A yelp caught in her throat, soundless as she gaped. The humanoid’s eyes fluttered open, glassy and unseeing as the mouth opened to speak, forming voiceless words. The chest heaved like a bellows, the six other arms encompassing it twitching and flexing their digits, movements as stilted as the main body. Sakura tried lip reading what it was saying, but couldn’t find anything intelligible.

Even so, why did this being make her chest ache so much?

Carefully did her free hand come to cup its face, the mouth gasping before closing gently, face leaning into her touch in lieu of the vice on her wrist relaxing, eyes descending to her own and Sakura felt something hot build within her eyes.

How pathetic was this? Months after the war had ended, she felt herself succumbing, arms winding around the entity’s neck. Though its arms were affixed to the bark by its elbows, still did it attempt to embrace her back, the wooden hardness of its visage buried into her shoulder despite how bizarre it looked. She didn’t even _know_ Hashirama, and to find such solace in some construct no one else knew about felt like the lowest she could descend. Something that wasn’t human, but embraced her like she hadn’t been in months since embarking on her lonely journey for truth and justice.

“Uchiha Madara made that, Sakura-sama.”

Sakura started guiltily when she saw Katsuyu waiting so demurely on the stone floor the roots penetrated through, even though she didn’t move to free herself; as if the slug had caught two forbidden lovers in the act. That line of thought was more startling because of how utterly ridiculous it was. Reluctantly did Sakura pull away, even though it was the most comforted she’d felt in months.

Hashirama’s likeness fell away almost dejectedly, eyelids shuttering before closing shut and it became motionless as a sculpture once more, like an automaton deactivating. Descending the roots, Sakura squatted on her haunches before Katsuyu, knowing she had something important to say.

“This is the Hashirama clone that sustained Madara for years after his life had naturally expired. Before, the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path rested atop the lotus blooming at its pinnacle, but with it gone, only this bloom remains, and it will slowly wither and die if it isn’t maintained.” Slithering closer to Sakura for the kunoichi to scoop her up to her shoulder again, Sakura felt mollified when the slug didn’t pursue the odd action she’d taken. “I think… it may have been a source of companionship, too. He was always human, even to the end.”

At that, Sakura froze at the implications that caused her cheeks to redden considerably. Glancing back at the dormant humanoid, remembering how tactile it could become, the medic felt herself blanch and vied to push the thought from her mind. “Let’s not mention this _ever_ again. From here on out, that’s a hugging machine, as far as I’m concerned.” Though she didn’t reply, Katsuyu seemed to agree. “Were you able to find anything?”

“Yes. That way, Sakura-sama.”

To the left of the raised dais upon which preceded the enormous bloom and Hashirama clone, the roots branched into another passageway that caused Sakura to slow her advance, unable to believe what she was really seeing.

On the wall paralleling the entry was an enormous, ceiling-high collection of glass containers set within casings that dominated every inch of the wall. A sickly, pale yellow glow lit through the preservation fluids that kept them intact, beads of red all pointed to one thing: these were all Sharingan, or dōjutsu like it. Sucking in a shaky breath, Sakura strode towards the wall and looked to one of the canisters, glancing below at the frame. All contained in wooden housing units, Sakura set to her inspecting.

From what Santa had taught her in the labs, one of the most important things any investigator could learn was how to identify the age of substances. From what she could tell, the wood shelving units were constructed from oak, and though the damp conditions of the cave caused some discoloration, the grains told enough of a story. Utilizing a small bit of a chakra scalpel to minutely encase her fingertip, she scrapped off some of the veneer and grime to reveal the true color; still light, and not like it had always been there. And by the number of rings this particular slat of wood bore…

“This entire unit can’t be more than a decade old,” she said aloud, feeling an uneasy throb of relief in her chest. From what she’d gleaned from Sasuke and what Obito had told him, the older Uchiha couldn’t have been older than 21 or so when the massacre itself had occurred, but no more than 13 when Madara had actually died. When he’d been posing as Madara and had been Itachi’s accomplice, it would’ve been long after the time when Madara had been alive.

And for what reason would Madara have to feign grief over the loss of his kinsmen, let alone before a person he didn’t give two shits about? That had been genuine, she was sure of it. But, there was still something she had to verify. Squinting at one of the jars, it took her a moment to realize that a thick film of dust had accrued, wiping it away with her sleeve. There, the name, date of death, and cause were all inscribed on the metal tab within.

_Uchiha Izumi. Ten years ago. Uchiha Clan Massacre._

Sakura instantly felt her blood curdle to ice in her veins. “Katsuyu-sama, please split apart into as many clones as you can and help me verify these labels,” Sakura requested with a faint tremor in her voice, horror knotting her stomach at the Sharingan staring blankly back at her. Katsuyu wordlessly obliged her, splitting apart with her _Slug Great Division_ as the gravity of the situation weighed them both.

With a pad of paper in hand and one of Katsuyu’s clones still perched on her shoulder, she wrote down the name of every label, its date, and the circumstances. So far, every jar yielded the same date and circumstance, unsure as to whether that brought her relief or not. When both concluded and Katsuyu reformed into her original size when they’d come, she staggered against the metallic operating slab with a shaky sigh.

There were 552 pairs of Sharingan total, and that didn’t include the number of those without, or those had been lost to experimentation, or that Danzō had expended… Sakura’s hand covered her mouth as she breathed reedily, trembling with nausea. She’d seen worse, had operated on tremendously hopeless cases, but it was so much different when these were the people whose memories she was trying to redeem. Hapless, innocent people she’d been too young to realize were in danger.

“I can’t just… leave them here.”

Without another word did she set about the task of sealing every pair of eyes within a sealing scroll, dubiously wondering how many could even fit. As if reading her mind, if a brief cloud of smoke did Katsuyu produce her own kind of blank sealing scroll, Sakura knowing it was special. Sealed with the Shikkotsu Forest’s insignia, the parchment’s backing was printed with a myriad amount of jade and emerald leaves. Though its ornamentation hardly mattered, the amount it could hold within surely did.

It took roughly an hour to seal all of the hundreds of jars within the scroll, admittedly feeling lighter than when she had arrived. With the dozens of empty cubbies left in their wake, Sakura knew that it would mean yet another important leg of her journey completed, and maybe when it was all over, they could be destroyed and given proper funerary rites instead of being used for such nefarious purposes.

Wondering how long they had been within the lab alone, Sakura fished for a pocket watch from within her rear pouch and checked it, slightly aghast at the time. Already it was late into the evening, having only just started a proper survey of Madara’s base. Putting it away, stifling a yawn did Sakura then decide that dinner and a short nap would break up the tedium before she went back to work.

With the several days she’d been granted for leave, gods knew she probably wouldn’t be sleeping through the night where any of them were concerned.

* * *

A few hours had passed since Sakura had managed to stow all of the Sharingan away, sleeping surprisingly soundly despite herself. As Katsuyu was largely tireless and needed little sleep, while Sakura slept did the little slug take the initiative to explore more of the base and ensure that anywhere Sakura trekked would be rid of booby traps if there were any.

Having slept at the base of the Hashirama tree, Sakura felt strangely at peace beneath its sparse boughs, of the humanoid that awoke when she was so close to it. It was odd. The Hashirama clone wasn’t sentient, but its silent reenactment of some unknown, happy moment felt like it was. Normally, she should have found such a bizarre sight disturbing, but it was almost like watching a film reel of someone’s past play out on the silver screen.

As Sakura sat with her back against the dead trunk where the massive tubes draped over, watching its animated gesticulations, a wistful part of Sakura realized that she didn’t want to leave the clone behind. That maybe, in the heart of her so devoted to this cause she barely had anyone to tell about, that she wanted something there to talk to. Even if it was the farthest thing from being sentient.

Striding close to the clone, Sakura couldn’t help but reach out to gently touch the being’s face, the flexion of small muscles that animated its features relaxing while its face leaned into her touch, causing Sakura’s heart to practically skip a beat. “Can you… hear me? Do you know I’m even here?” she asked the clone, receiving no reply in return. She sighed loudly. “Dammit, it feels like I’d be leaving a person behind if I just left you here.”

 _I’d ask if this makes us crazy, talking to something that isn’t even real, but I’m just a Yin Release-based personality that took a life of her own! What do I know?_ Inner Sakura quipped with a smirk, Sakura smiling wryly at her alter ego’s quip. This probably did mean she was crazy, but at least she still had a heart.

“I think we should bring it with us, Sakura-sama. Not to Konoha, but to the Shikkotsu Forest.”

Sakura swore Katsuyu was doing it on purpose, sneaking up on her like that, and was probably keeping a tally by then. Yet, it was mention of Shikkotsurin that drew Sakura’s interest the most, knowing it wasn’t impossible given that an enormous forest was the perfect place for a clone that was, essentially, a tree itself.

“How would you go about it?” Sakura prompted, gazing inquisitively at the mollusk.

“A reverse-summoning. Come here, Sakura-sama. I have exactly the means to go about it.”

With Sakura’s blood as a medium did Katsuyu instruct the kunoichi on the characters and rune circles to scrawl on the roots of the clone tree, Sakura’s found a safe distance away from the main body where she knew that any reverse-summoning for so large an object would take considerable effort. Inhaling, Sakura performed the sequence of signs and slammed her palm on the ground.

_Gyaku Kuchiyose no Jutsu!_

In enormous plumes of smoke was the chamber engulfed in the haze, wincing with eyes squeezed shut as the behemoth vanished in the smoke, the cleared emissions channel that tree had been sprouting within allowing for the smoke to be easily dispelled instead of trapped within their small room. As her vision cleared, Sakura was awed to see that its massiveness had vanished like it was nothing. One would think that, after summoning an enormous part of Katsuyu, that such largeness wouldn’t surprise her anymore. Yet, even she could prove herself wrong.

Even though her strange companion was now somewhere else, she felt more fulfilled than anything. With two enormous hurdles cleared in such a short span of time, the daunting work of exploring the rest of the base and discovering what she could seemed like much less of a daunting task.

Yet, in the aftermath of transporting the Hashirama clone and the gaping amount of space left in its wake, Sakura’s gaze snapped over her should the moment she heard something fall a great height from the top of the flue that the clone tree had grown within. There, in the empty hollow its roots had been, was a thick leather journal. Relatively untouched from the fall, Sakura alighted to where it had and dusted off the cover, leather creaking as she held it by the spine.

Experimentally, she conducted a swift battery of tests to ensure it wasn’t laden with illusions or traps, all before revealing that it was a dud in that respect. Just an old, ancient journal crumbling from the years of dampness despite the rabbit-skin parchment holding up brilliantly together. Flipping open to the inside cover, her eyes widened at the characters she saw inside.

_Uchiha Madara._

“This is his journal,” Sakura breathed, the air seeming to have grown heavy and still. Eyes still upon it, did she then come to the trunk throne, nestled upon its seat, and knew that something inexorable was going to draw her in and she wouldn’t be able to let go. “It’s Madara’s journal, Katsuyu-sama.”

The mollusk looked on as she slithered over the back frame of the throne, gazing over the blank introduction page like it was a tome of black magic. “I’ll be here if you need me, Sakura-sama. You know what needs to be done, don’t you?”

With clammy hands, Sakura nodded.

Cracking it open, she began to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For those of you wondering how I approximated the location of Madara's hideout, it's actually [shown in the manga](https://comicvine1.cbsistatic.com/uploads/original/11128/111286243/7014135-3.png). And as shown in [the map](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f4/f3/04/f4f3044629f48215de63304e3fc5c764.jpg) I use for this AU, the country itself is the Land of Fangs.


	6. Chapter 6

Warning(s): T, some body horror

* * *

Hours moved into days, days into weeks. In the windowless lab located within the Torture and Investigation Department, Sakura had personally gone through and inspected every pair of the hundreds of eyes that had come from the Mountains’ Graveyard. Between the three of them, with her acute ability as a medic and the biomedical knowledge, of course such a task would fall on her shoulders.

She just hadn’t anticipated how emotionally draining it would become.

As she conducted thorough, methodical checks of every pair—determining the condition, state, and rate of decay—it was the sheer amount that was taking its toll. These had been people who had met death as the very last thing they’d ever seen. The last image burned in their Sharingan had been that of a killer, either of a boy driven to the brink, or a madman pretending to be a god. Seeing labels denoting a pair belonging to a younger child was the most taxing, Sakura’s eyes blurring as tears threatened.

After having finishing another hundred, Sakura sat slumped against a metal bookcase, its cold, latticed steel biting through the flimsy cloth of her soiled lab coat smeared in preservatives and proteins that had comprised the fluid the eyes had been suspended in. Her rubber gloves were encrusted with what had dried when exposed to the air, wrists hanging off her propped knees.

The oppressive silence filled her blank mind, the closest she could come to peace, glancing at one of the jars situated on the metal slab she’d been working from that had yet to be stowed away. A recent conclusion made them move within the fluid, until they paused and remained transfixed on her.

The clock was useless in trying to determine what time it was. As chilled as the cool tile floor, it could be 3 AM or 3 PM and she’d have no way of knowing.

The piercing whine of hinges drew her gaze towards the door, Santa entering the room in a mild state of concern when he chanced upon Sakura’s numbed, listless state while staring into oblivion. Wordlessly did he take Sakura firmly by the hand, hauled her up, and planted steadying hands on the kunoichi’s shoulders. “Sakura-san, you’ve been awake for almost two full days. You need to sleep.”

Sakura blinked through her stupor, brow puckered. “Two days…?” she echoed dazedly, glancing at the clock again. “Sorry, I just… wanted to get this done. I still have at least a hundred more to get through.” Her voice sounded hoarse with disuse, even to herself. She didn’t even want to begin to imagine how rough she must look.

“And you’ve done enough. All we need for the procedure are a few pairs. This place is secure, and I doubt these eyes are going anywhere.” The corner of his lips quirked once, then he helped Sakura peel off her soiled gloves and lab coat, too exhausted to really deal with either.

For the rest of the way between there and her bunker, hovering close to ensure Sakura didn’t stumble, Santa explained that they had managed to restore a modified Chakra Transmission Communication Device that paired with a target’s mind in order to extract memories usually done while alive. As it had been used by Danzō in Root’s heyday, it was able to connect even within Sharingan to allow them to view the memories Sharingan were able to record. While Sakura knew it wouldn’t be easy to undertake, she couldn’t help but feel endlessly grateful to the Yamanaka for his willingness to partake in it.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine what he would see.

Katsuyu greeted Sakura the moment she stumbled in her bunker, sensing her weakened state. “Sakura-sama, you have to sleep at once,” the slug gently suggested the moment she shambled in, guiding the compliant kunoichi who practically fell into her bottom bunk without a word of resistance, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Sakura wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep, but when she awoke next, the pervasive feeling of wallowing in her own filth was enough not to linger in the initial doldrums of dopiness that came after a long, much-needed rest. “Katsuyu-sama, how long was I asleep for?” Sakura asked as she yawned hugely and grimaced at the acidic taste of morning breath, feeling like her mouth was stuffed with cotton as she stretched out her stiff limbs and cracked her joints as a result.

“It’s been several hours, Sakura-sama. Maybe you should sleep more?” the summon suggested as Sakura fished through her wardrobe for a new pair of standard pants and baggy turtleneck, flak jacket piled on the bunk above hers while she also hunted for a pair of white knee-highs, just remembering that she’d set her sandals near her bedroom’s door.

Sakura shook her head. “I can’t afford to do that, Katsuyu-sama, I’m sorry,” she said with an apologetic smile to the slug who gazed at her. New clothes folded under her arms, she padded towards the locker room adjacent to the dorm and placed them on one of the benches that lined that wall. Then, she began stripping off her soiled clothing and undergarments before stepping into the lukewarm spray of one of the showers, grateful as she began cleansing herself.

She spent so long in the warm water that mist began fogging the waxy tile floors. Feeling as though she’d washed herself well enough, scrubbing until her hands felt raw and pruney, Sakura spun the dial to off and began drying and changing.

As she’d arranged it with Santa on her way back to her bunker, she’d requested a chance to meet with Madara again. In the several days she’d spent in the Mountain's Graveyard, aside from amassing an enormous trove of items both necessary and not, she’d read his journal cover to cover. It hadn’t been a perfect itinerary of the events in his life, but what she’d gleaned had been partly responsible for the fugue she’d been suspended in for the two days spent examining all the hundreds of pairs of eyes that she could.

The weight of revelation had sat so heavily on her that she felt no need to sleep.

Part of her had suspected he’d recorded the momentous parts of his life solely to keep a catalog, in case old age eroded his mind, but parts of it let his emotions through where she suspected he hadn’t allowed it to. It had been a massive undertaking to read, over a thousand pages long. And Sakura had done it, without skimping out a single word or entry.

Seated at the circular conference table in the conference room was it dog-tagged to hell and back, marked with various slips of paper inserted between pages that denoted important recollections she referred back to, a primary source that would bolster anything Madara deigned to tell her himself.

Much of her wondered how the Uchiha was doing, not having spoken to him in weeks since she’d first revealed the fate of the clan in the first place, put into a deep stasis while repairs were done. Though, that was days ago and they had finished enough that his holding chamber was secure again. Time she’d spent in the Mountain’s Graveyard wandering through its ancient corridors and sweeping, underground vistas that she couldn’t help but liken to the hemispheres of the mind.

If it was Madara or Obito’s, Sakura didn’t know. All she did was that the woman of a few weeks ago was drastically enlightened and disillusioned compared to even the prophetess of the Uchihas’ dire fate.

Maybe it was both. Obito had erased who he was in becoming Madara, a name of power, the name of everyone disillusioned with the world. And in the decades of degradation into the man she was currently speaking with, he’d become the other hemisphere of the man whose name alone was enough to incite the most brutal and final war their world had ever seen.

So, with her teeth brushed and a quick meal arranged in the industrial kitchen did she then set out from her bunker, mind completely focused on what would undoubtedly be one of the largest challenges she would have to surmount.

By that point in time, speaking with Ibiki on the matter had convinced him to give her the access codes requisite to operate both the freight elevator that was the sole entry point to and from the secret incarceration unit and the egresses into the observation room and vaulted holding chamber where the Uchiha had been kept for months.

As the freight elevator squealed and whined on its enormously thick cables and steel tracks, Sakura didn’t feel the sting of anticipation rattle her spine. As she proceeded down the dank, silent hall and into the observation chamber quiet as a tomb did she take pause in the one-way viewing window, to the whitewash chamber holding the Uchiha in his unconscious suspension.

Entering the code in a succession of beeps on the keypad did she open and then close the door behind her with its compressed hiss, Madara not budging as his head hung limp and comatose. Framing her fingers in a square with him as the central focus, the door to his mind was opened.

_Mind Palace: Method of Places_

The world melted away like rain battering a window pane as the scenery changed to the interior of the secret chamber beneath the Uchiha’s Naka Shrine where they revered the kami that embodied their clan, Tsukiyomi, a practice that every other clan practiced even if not as visibly. Stone braziers washed the stone chamber in light of a scattered gold as their shadows extended long over the Uchiha Stone Tablet the Uchiha ancestor was engrossed in the study of.

“Is it not enough to leave me in this stasis? Must you haunt the last bastion I have against this accursed place?” Madara bristled upon her presence becoming corporeal, but Sakura didn’t flinch.

Now, he wasn’t good or evil. The gray weight of revelation seemed to cloak him like fog, one that suited the Ghost of the Uchiha. Even the man she’d faced in the Kamui dimension and the other moments before he’d transformed into Kaguya were nebulous as gray matter, without the assignment of morality that she’d usually be liable to tack on to someone like him.

“You’re older than I am, more powerful. If you didn’t want me here, couldn’t you just oust me?” Sakura challenged him. “Maybe you’re lonely after being something more than human for so long.”

The silence spanned long after she spoke, Madara’s lips curling back into a snarl as he wheeled on her rage, coming within a meter of her. “What the _hell_ do you want from me?!” came his broken shout, the brittle stoniness of his facade snapping despite how strong he normally was, how impervious he was against the collective strength of the world. Snapping beneath grief and its rawness.

Even in his ferocity, Sakura didn’t flinch. Controller of the illusion or no, she understood him better than he yet realized she did. “The same as you,” she answered softly, an indomitable wall against his tongues of flame. “Justice for people who didn’t deserve to die.”

At that, Madara grinned wolfishly, crookedly, in mocking disbelief. “ _Bullshit_.” The brief moment of lost composure righted itself as Madara’s moment of acidic vulnerability became one of tactical wheedling beneath her skin. “How am I going to believe you’re any more different than any other dog in Konoha? I think that you’re looking for justice for what I did to the slug brat. She’s your mentor, isn’t she? Why should I believe anything else? I’m not one of the idiots who threw themselves on the Will of Fire to burn alive like the rest of you Leaf rats.”

Sakura turned towards the stone tablet, and though it was liable to be distorted by memory, she strode towards it and ran a hand alone its grainy, textured surface. The friction between skin and stone almost burned, Madara glaring at her in bemusement.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say it, but believe me when I say I wouldn’t be here if my sole interest was to torture you. There’s plenty of people in Konoha who hate your guts who would line up at the first opportunity to do something like this.” _Something depraved._ Her hand curled into a fist atop the stone tablet, brow furrowing. “A few months ago, I hated your guts, so don’t think for a second I’m here because I want to be! I’m not a sadist, either!”

Madara scoffed, glowering at Sakura contemptuously. “And what do you feel now? Some saintly motivation to save me?” he hissed at her, arms folded.

At that, Sakura turned to him with a fearless expression. “No. But because you’re the indirect reason the Uchiha are dead, I’m the only willing to make sure something is done about it.”

As soon as the words were spoken did Madara respond with a partial Susano’o fist that manifested from the incomplete rib cage deliver a savage punch towards the kunoichi who was subdued against the wall that caved upon impact, a swell of dust elicited while the bunker itself shuddered from the collision.

Yet, as the dust began clearing Sakura scowled at him while her chakra-enhanced strength allowed her to grapple with the crushing vice of the Susano’o’s digits, prying them open as the construct’s form shivered from the attrition against Sakura.

“ _Cha!_ ” With that cry did she charge a greater amount of chakra into her fist and lunged for the rib cage proper, the narrow space barely accommodating as she just managed to shift the scene to the summit of Hokage Rock while her timed hit connected with the rib cage of the Susano’o, taking enough damage as he remained rooted in place but scowled as the form itself cracked and shattered like broken glass.

“I’m not your enemy!” Sakura shouted at him in frustration, the Uchiha primed to erect his ultimate defense again before she spoke, faltering only to allow her this brief window. “Have many times do I have to say it?!”

Madara deadpanned in the face of it, the incomplete body of his Susano’o manifesting despite how easily Sakura could dispel it. With the anger festering in the man, much of her realized that this might be the only way she would be able to reach him. Consigned as she was to this reality, much of her could imagine what grief moved him, what had brimmed in the pages of his journal as hotly as spilling magma despite how he tried and failed to make it a dispassionate testimony of his life after defecting.

As the four-armed avatar towered over her, the wind in even the illusion became dead as his foul power radiated like poison, even Sakura feeling uneasy with the potency of it. She realized how much she wasn’t a person to him then, but a faceless nobody who had become the representation of all that he hated; simply because of the forehead protector she wore.

His visage was the face of impassivity despite his grief, one of the hands of his Susano’o opening to allow the orbs of chakra that comprised the Yasaka Magatama to orbit its cusp before their revolutions became as fast and furious as a centrifuge, then sent careening towards her. Even with all her evasive abilities as a med-nin, she knew the fact that they played in a world of her make was better to use to her advantage, even if the medium was memories of Madara’s past.

As the Magatama hurtled towards her with deadly precision, Sakura let them buffet her and churn against her gut, sailing back from the impact despite how they only weathered long enough before the Body Replacement Technique saw them halted by a haze of smoke and a simple log was pulverized by the attack.

“How childish…” Madara hissed, arms folding as his features were briefly creased by distaste.

“Yeah… but that was kind of the point.”

_Demonic Illusion: Tree-binding Death_

From the ground did a sprout swiftly accelerate into a fully-grown oak that coiled around the Uchiha at the floor of the Susano’o where he was vulnerable, lifting him off the ground enough that he was helplessly suspended as the Susano’o faded from being parted from the caster.

It was a genjutsu that Sakura had learned shortly after Sasuke’s disappearance from Kurenai, one of the earliest times the woman had mentored her. Though she wasn’t foolish enough to think it would be enough to deter him, knowing that it would be ultimately meaningless.

“Genjutsu, _kai_!” the Uchiha uttered within a minute of being trapped, deadpanned before he realized that the illusion wasn’t breaking, the real Sakura striding towards him as easily as if he were simply the cool, refreshing shade of the tree that bound him; an illusion within an illusion. Of course, remembering that they were inside Sakura’s genjutsu visibly chagrined Madara.

Sakura placed her hand on a jutted hip, seemingly at ease despite the rush of adrenaline that came from subduing someone as powerful as Madara, even if she did possess an unfair advantage she’d never have in the waking world. Her expression was serious as she gazed on him critically, no amusement or triumph at what essentially amounted to a cheap victory.

“Not that you would care that much since I’m so unremarkable compared to Lord First or Gai-sensei, but fighting isn’t going to get you nor I anywhere. Now, if you want to end this and break the illusion to end up in exactly the same place as you are here, you’re more than welcome to. I’ve got better things to do than waste my time trying to placate someone completely inconsolable.”

 _Even if I get why why he’s like this in the first place_ , Sakura amended internally with a slight crease to her brow, knowing she would never be able to fathom this level of grief. That didn’t mean she was useless against bringing the ones responsible to justice.

Though he didn’t reply, Madara’s form did sag resignedly in the illusory tree’s brambles, expression unreadable as Sakura released the illusion that eased him back to the earth, set on the soles of his feet as he reminded her vaguely of a disgruntled cat, even though it was a humorless observation at best.

“Oh, and another thing.” The Uchiha didn’t look at her, but his silence was receptive enough. “Stop doubting my conviction with this. I’ll say it once, and I won’t say it again: not being part of your clan doesn’t mean I lack the basic human empathy enough to want to do something about injustice when no one else will. Innocent people died in a single night for reasons they didn’t understand, all because of a handful who were demonized for wanting to do something about the prejudice against them. That’s my reason, lineage be damned, so stop prodding me about it.”

Though her expression wasn’t passionate, the faint frown that tugged at her lips spoke enough of the heaviness of understanding. _He who increaseth knowledge so increaseth sorrow_ , as the adage went. One that had become the truest reality she’d ever experienced since embarking on her journey.

Madara found the trunk of a tree to lean against, a sweet breeze tugging at the wispier strands of hair. For a man who had dehumanized himself for generations, to her, he looked like anything but the impersonal ideal that anyone could bridle themselves with.

“…You’re aware of how much the village will hate you for this, don’t you?” Madara asked without the harsh sting of condescension. For the first time, his gaze matched hers fully, the bridge of conversation.

“This isn’t about me. It never was,” Sakura replied simply, seating herself on the bank of the river while still being within earshot of the man. She knew it was coming, sooner or later. It was such a disquieting thing to think about, foiled to the sweet breeze and placid current of the Naka River itself. “My name is Sakura Haruno, by the way. Seeing as you’re going to need a name at some point.”

“Hn. I was aware of it. There are few people in this world who possess such a garish hair color,” Madara remarked laconically, gaze drifting out on the river where Sakura’s had wandered. “That, and the Uzumaki brat wouldn’t stop shouting it.”

“That’s Naruto for you,” Sakura replied with a faint cringe, subtly smirking to herself. If anyone had told her she’d be joking about Naruto with Madara in a genjutsu world of her own creation a few months ago, Sakura would’ve dismissed them as being crazy. But, she’d changed. For better or worse, the world wasn’t as simple as black and white, and she didn’t see Madara through quite the same lens. The girl that would’ve happily charged him headlong in a futile attempt to wipe the floor with his irritating deadpan simply wasn’t there. She’d been replaced by a Sakura who was more cynical, maybe a little wiser.

“I found your journal when I went to the Mountains' Graveyard,” she said, switching tangents. Though she couldn’t see him, Madara visibly stiffened. “Can I ask you one thing about it, though?”

“…What.”

“There’s something strange about it.” She paused, extending a leg where her sandal skimmed the lapping waters. “It’s almost like you don’t even see yourself as a human being.”

The crunching of gravel sounded as Madara stood only a few meters away from her, arms folded as he looked out at the massively wide river. The bitterness in the very air was palpable.

“It’s because I don’t. I sacrificed my humanity after I became the world’s first missing-nin. I had to in order to make the world free from pain forever. To give my brother the world I couldn’t when he was still alive.” The leathers of his gloves creaked from how tightly he gripped the cruxes of his arms. “I became an ideal, a god of destruction, a bridge of destiny—all sacrificed on the altar of fate.”

“I don’t know if I believe you.” Madara’s gaze flashed to her dangerously, but her graven expression had him reconsider as she spoke. “Are you sure that’s when it began? That it wasn’t earlier? The Senju started seeing you as monsters even after Konoha was established. Or, they were a lot less subtle about it, at least.”

 _Why did it hurt so much?_ Remembering what he’d lived with for generations had simply become his reality. And yet, meditating on this made his heart clench—some bitter, mournful creature keening against the iron bars of his ribs. It shouldn’t have. Even if Sakura’s inference into its true beginnings was a correct deduction, he’d made peace with it long ago. It shouldn’t have stung him with the barb that it did. It shouldn’t have hurt at all.

“No… it was… earlier than even that,” Madara corrected reluctantly, swallowing thickly. He felt as though he’d swallowed thorns. “I was destined for this role, to be the bridge that broke the cycle Indra began. I had no choice in the matter. And in breaking it, I unshackled this world. Exactly as I meant to.” His words held no pride, no egotism that it had before. The man who had called every person disillusioned with the world after himself weighed so poignantly, Sakura not having realized it until now. The real meaning behind the sordid ego Madara had exalted like a madman.

She’d known about the reincarnation cycle, especially after the war when Sasuke had opened up to her about what Hagoromo had revealed to her, but never like this. Sakura couldn’t imagine what it was like to have that predetermined long before you were ever born, having little choice in the matter. The final link that let Sasuke and Naruto break the chain.

To be deprived of humanity so early on, for his choices to be premeditated from the beginning, necessary all because of something his predecessor did… Sakura chanced a look at Madara, much of his countenance concealed by his side-swept forelock that shaded over his right eye while his lips were set in a thin line. A man who looked human, but likely wouldn’t believe it if someone told him as much. A pawn of destiny, dehumanized by his detractors, the final gambit to be played…

Just where was Madara Uchiha through all that? Once you stripped that all away, with his objectives thwarted, where was the man who had to exist somewhere?

“I won’t pretend to know what it’s like. To not understand my own humanity to the point where it doesn’t even exist… I can’t imagine it.” Sakura smiled mirthlessly at the river, feeling a little foolish. Why would Madara care? She was just a mosquito buzzing in his ear. “Sometimes, I think I’m too much of a person. To the point that I realize I’m a really bad kunoichi.” Because she couldn’t shut her emotions off, to be the unquestioning will of her village like a good shinobi was supposed to be. For a brief moment, Sakura worried with a dull sense of dread if she wasn’t making it about herself, something she caught herself doing without meaning to when trying to console others.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I felt the need to mention that,” she apologized needlessly, gazing away from Madara.

A pregnant pause filled the silence, the space between speaking filled by a flock of small birds crossing between one line of trees to the other, the current continuing unhindered. Water skeeters darted along the surface where it was the most peaceful, along the water reeds and cattails growing along its banks. Was this why they’d come here twice already? Because it was when Madara was still whole, and innocent? When he’d still been _human?_

“Shinobi are supposed to obey their commanding officers perfectly, without question. They never defy orders, or let emotion cloud their judgment. You’re a horrible, worthless kunoichi,” Madara said without reserve despite how there was no malice in his words; just a well of exhaustion thousands of leagues deep. “You’re better off being a human being.”

As Madara’s words sank in, she couldn’t help but feel herself take heart in his words, a warmth suffusing her breast. Despite how it mingled with the feeling of odiousness she’d felt since beginning this monumental undertaking, those were words she wished she could’ve heard a long time ago: that it was better to be herself instead of the remorseless weapon most shinobi were expected to be.

“The war is over, we’re in a new era… Maybe I’ll take you up on that,” Sakura said with a wry look, following a few small fish darting in the river’s shallows. Then, she became tentative, even a little grim. “What about you, Madara-san?”

Madara quirked a brow at her use of his name and an honorific, perhaps because it felt like the final wall of ice between them had broken. Even if it was a fry cry from saying he trusted her, or ever would. He looked away again, continuing his study of the river. “What future is there for a man who condemned thousands within the world to die?” he replied bleakly, shutting down their conversation.

Though Sakura wanted desperately to say something, she found she couldn’t.

Maybe someday she’d have the right words to say.

As the silence reigned, a leaf fluttered from the tree boughs and Madara caught it, a hole in its center he studied for a moment before raising it eye level and gazing out of the small hole like a portal, taking in the environment.

Seeing greener, brighter days, maybe.


	7. Chapter 7

Warning(s): T, vomiting

* * *

Heavy. It was a word that had become her friend, and closest companion. And if neither of the former, it was a shadow, a silent follower that never abandoned her even when all the lights went out.

Oftentimes, she fell asleep too quickly to truly think of it; that which followed her even after her occupied mind had nothing to subject itself to. When the cool metal of the industrial, narrow galley gleamed one last time, or the calcium-encrusted shower heads of the locker shone white no more, or the pixelated computer monitor flashed black to hibernate, what was this thing left behind?

Heavy wasn’t a feeling—not really. Not in a sense that it could be touched. Not stroked, hit, or lavished. It felt more alive than that. Taking breaths with the same lungs she did.

Sakura turned restlessly on her mattress, eliciting a creak of protest from the springs. It was a thin mattress, like the sheets and musty blue comforter atop it that smelled like accumulated dust and old books. Just allowing herself to slow down, to really sink into the moment, made her feel grounded through the rusted metal structure of the bunks and the darkness that encompassed her sans the sliver of light through her barely cracked door.

Letting her hand fall to the cool tile floor, Sakura let her fingers skim the surface as her eyes sank closed, concentrating. Minutely did she send rippling waves of chakra through the ground like sonar, letting a vibrational wave ripple as far she allowed it before it ricocheted back and into her mind’s eye. She saw the bunker in its entirety in that mental image, the place she’d called home, and even saw Katsuyu in her sleeplessness slither in her vigil throughout the hall and meeting room proper.

Sakura would never go so far as to call herself a Sensor Type, as she couldn’t detect chakra and its more refined variants, but that didn’t mean the Third Eye Gate was useless. It was something she’d developed on part of her paranoia over the hallucinated Sasuke phantoms was at its worst, and with it, she was able to detect people, traps, the layout of rooms and buildings, and more; her range grew a little each day, thanks in part to her peerless chakra control. Withdrawing her hand, she startled when the door slowly slid open, creaking on its hinges.

“Sakura-chan? Can’t you sleep? I felt you practicing your sensory jutsu just now,” came Katsuyu’s soft concern as she neared the bed, Sakura scooping up the palm-sized slug to rest on her abdomen, sighing softly.

“I can’t, not really. Ibiki-sensei gave me the weekend off, but outside of the case and stuff with the clinic, I’m not really sure what to do with all this free time,” the kunoichi admitted as she propped herself up a little, bed creaking with every little movement. “I’d train, but Kurenai-sensei is preoccupied with Mirai and everyone else has their own lives…”

The thought filled Sakura with a feeling of discontent, and she wasn’t entirely sure why. Outside of Ino and stuff with the clinic, she hadn’t properly socialized with anyone in months outside of Sasuke and Madara, as well as Ibiki and Santa, but she hardly thought that counted. Katsuyu, certainly, but even then it felt like she was disconnected from the world above. In a strange, reluctant way, she felt as though she were falling behind again. Walking a strange line between being too infamous and not knowing anyone else well enough.

Except, that’s sort of what was the matter, wasn’t it? Outside of the incidental times they’d teamed up together, Sakura didn’t really know anyone in her own generation outside of Ino. Even her own team mates felt as though they’d fallen apart at the seams once the war was over, Naruto looking so different to her, and she wasn’t sure it was because she and Sasuke were privy to something by force of necessity, or something else altogether.

A silence reigned, something significant weighing between them.

“Sakura-chan, I think it’s time.” Sitting up fully, holding Katsuyu in her hand, Sakura frowned in bemusement. “When we were exploring the Mountain’s Graveyard, I made a promise to you. Do you remember it?”

She lit up in remembrance. “Yeah! How you’d let me get to know you when the time is right.”

“It’s time, Sakura-chan. I think it’s time you came with me to the Shikkotsu Forest.”

An electric sensation of excitement ran the length of her spine, Sakura almost forgetting how to breathe. The Shikkotsu Forest was the least known of the three legendary sage regions, not even Tsunade having ventured there despite having a contract the same as she. As it was a sage region, a dare crossed her mind that had her vivified to that very moment like nothing else.

“Katsuyu-sama, does this mean you’ll be teaching me senjutsu?” Sakura blurted out, speaking before her mind could grasp what it was she was saying. Yet, there was no fluster, no second-guessing. Just a surety she hadn’t felt since she’d stood at the door of the Hokage’s Office and had requested Tsunade train her, Katsuyu recognizing the look in Sakura’s eyes.

The look of a young woman who was prepared to do the impossible.

“I’m not the same type of teacher as Tsunade-sama, Sakura-chan, but I remember that very same look in your eyes when we first met and you all but demanded Tsunade-sama take you on as her disciple.” The tone of amusement was palpable, full of nostalgic affection.

Though Sakura still knew very little about Sage Mode, she still remembered Naruto utilizing it for the first time during Pein’s Attack, and again after the Sage of Six Paths had bestowed half of his power after nearly dying. How much power it could grant with the right kind of training, how much it could make anyone deadlier beyond reckoning.

Katsuyu dropped from Sakura’s hand with a wet plop before gazing up at her again. “Please get ready, Sakura-chan. I need to prepare the portal there, so it will only take a few moments.”

“Right, Katsuyu-sama!”

Within half an hour, Sakura bolted into the locker room and showered, changed into a laundered pair of trousers, baggy turtleneck, and her flak jacket and stowed away whatever she could that she’d normally bring with her on long trips, then bolting into the industrial galley where she prepared herself a bowl of granola and milk topped with a fruit bowl side, then packing some non-perishables in a scroll she typically allotted to foodstuffs on journeys.

Practically panting by the time she returned to her dorm room, it was in the hallway that she was surprised to see Katsuyu with an unrolled scroll, with a circular pool opening into the very floor itself that cast scaly undulations of light on the walls. Figuring it was simply some manifestation Katsuyu had mustered, she was nonetheless bursting with anticipation at what was to come.

“This is a Distance Teleportation Pool, Sakura-chan. It’s what we sage animals use to travel between our homes and wherever we might be. Are you ready to go?” Katsuyu prompted as she was taken into Sakura’s hand and perched familiarly atop her shoulder, the kunoichi inhaling deeply.

Looking back at the rest of the empty bunker and ahead to the sole flight of stairs from it, she felt as though there was no going back, that everything would change from here on out. And like before, five years ago, Sakura had no way of knowing what the future held. Only that something immense was coming, and that she was ready to greet it.

“Yes, I am, Katsuyu-sama. Everything’s locked up, and I already paged a notice to Ibiki-sensei that he’ll receive come morning…” Seeing as it was barely after midnight, but all the same. Everything was in order for her to disappear for a few days. “So, how does this work—”

Sakura barely had a moment to answer her own question as her body suddenly lurched forwards and she was plunging headfirst into the watery portal, barely able to yelp let alone take in a breath. All Sakura could do was hold what breath she did have and brace herself as her body was lashed to and fro in the torrential current, barely able to see through with an inability to breathe while her perspective was completely washed in a chaotic jet stream.

Amazingly, Sakura never hit stones or any other hard surfaces while she was jettisoned through the riptides in flurries of bubbles and sea foam, like being tumbled in a washing machine on the highest setting, any hopes of wresting control rendered useless.

Yet, Sakura’s vision suddenly cleared as the surface of a body of water rushed to greet her, the kunoichi bracing for impact with her arms held protectively in front of her face and expecting to be dashed against something ruthlessly hard until her view suddenly shifted and she landed on solid wood with a hard thud, on all fours to choke and hack up whatever water had made it into her lungs.

Disoriented, Sakura gingerly straightened to sit on her haunches, perplexed by where they were. Sputtering out the last of the liquid, her lungs and throat burned, eyes watering, just aware of Katsuyu on her shoulder as her eyes were just adjusting to the warm dim.

From a raised basin did a trail of water pool around her, the smooth stone foiled against the nigh mirror-smooth cherry red wooden floor she was sprawled upon, pillars projecting from gold-embossed wooden paneling detailed with unknown events depicting ancient times, all a similar burgundy whilst the inner structure of the roofing above was shadowy. Stone braziers danced with rich bowls of flame that flickered upon the walls, coloring a sanguine hue that drew her eye, the intensity of sandalwood and cinnamon diffused through the room alone.

While Sakura gaped at her surroundings, she started when a pair of monks in off-shoulder red kasaya robes worn to bare feet and black cloaks worn loosely entered the pavilion, like twin reflections did they regard the kunoichi impassively before sighting Katsuyu saw them smoothly kowtowing to the slug within a second of seeing her.

“Ōname Sennin,” they greeted in tandem, Sakura’s eyes widening at the name. _The Great Slug Sage?_ She turned to Katsuyu as she inclined towards both men, the monks seeming to sense its reciprocation before they recomposed themselves. “You,” the left spoke to her sharply. “Who are you to Katsuyu-sama?”

“She’s to become my disciple,” Katsuyu answered simply, unflinchingly, Sakura slightly surprised by the change in tone. Around herself and Tsunade, she often sounded deferential. Here, though still gentle, there was in iron in the slug’s voice. “Please accord her all the respect she should be afforded, Tang Sanzang.”

The man she spoke to, the one to the left, gripped his other fist before his face before bowing sharply at Sakura, who she deduced couldn’t be more than a few years older than herself. His plain, angular, stoic face was tanned from the sun. “Yes, Katsuyu-sama. Might I have your name, then?” Sanzang’s face gentled, Sakura almost swearing she could see his lips quirk up a smile.

“Hm? Oh, I’m Sakura Haruno, a kunoichi from Konohagakure. It’s nice to meet you, Tang-sama.” The girl dipped into a bow, but didn’t linger as Sanzang gestured for her to follow while his fellow monk departed his brother monk’s side to mop the mess Sakura’s arrival had made.

From the dusky, smoky confines of the portal room were both ushered to an expansive veranda that overlooked the water, Sakura just aware that this temple complex was completely suspended on the ocean, land miles away from its site. Yet, as Sanzang paused where he intended on the night-washed vista, what she saw took her breath utterly away.

From what couldn’t have been more than a mile or two away, the mighty heights of Shikkotsurin all but loomed over them. Its canopy touched the very atmosphere, clouds sculling through the mountainously high treetops like fish darting through seaweed on the ocean floor. Yet, that wasn’t what subdued her. The trunks of those trees glowed with an pearly blue luminescence, ascending to those cloud-piercing boughs that skimmed the sky, the umbrage itself shimmering like diamonds as it pulsed with sweet turquoise radiance. Even from within the forest that skimmed along the shoreline could she see a scintillation of riotous violets, blues, greens, and all hues between of the underbrush, and this was from considerable squinting on Sakura’s part, so lost in its kaleidoscopic haze that she felt she could lose herself in rapture of the very sight of it.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Sanzang interjected while stepping closer towards Sakura, standing nearer to the balustrade. His very features were lit by the spectacle, reflecting its light wanly like the moon. Shikkotsu’s majesty reflected on the water, a distorted palette that undulated brightly. The more they stood there from the quiet relief of the portal room, the more its jungle din filled the air, tugging at something primal within her breast.

“It is. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Sakura unabashedly marveled, still trying to regain her breath. Glancing at Sanzang who was as enraptured as she, she tried focusing on him. “So… Sanzang-san, is it?” At her piping up, she continued, “So… what is it you do, exactly? I mean, are you part of a religion, or…?”

He smiled indulgently. “I am a monk of the Inner Path, Sakura-san,” he said, and anticipating her bemusement, explained. “The Inner Path could be considered like your Will of Fire. It is a lifestyle, a way of life for the sages. You could be considered a novice now, since you are pursuing learning under Katsuyu-sama’s wing, correct?”

Sakura nodded. “That’s right. So, the Inner Path, huh?”

“Yes. Explaining it expounds little, however. You will understand it better in practice.” Glancing at Katsuyu before switching back to Sakura, Sanzang smirked a little. “Katsuyu-sama is too polite to say so, but you should be starting towards Shikkotsurin, Sakura-san. Perhaps we can converse more another day.”

“Wait, wait—hang on a second. Is there more to these temples, or is this the only one?”

“There are four for each cardinal direction. Though they are places of worship for those wishing to pay homage to the Forest, or to accept new students like yourself, we primarily serve as vigils and maintainers of the barriers that protect Shikkotsurin from the outside world. Only we or Katsuyu-sama can allow others access. Four hundred miles apart each way, yet we serve our functions as we have for generations.

 _Whoa, four hundred miles apart? Guess that’s in radius either way. Jeez, just how big is this place? I’d better not get lost!_ Inner Sakura suddenly piped up, a little less dazzled compared to Sakura herself, the kunoichi smiling a little. Sanzang glanced at her speculatively, at her smile. “Oh, sorry! I was just thinking about how it’s a little crazy how big this place is. Thankfully, I have a pretty good sense of direction.”

“I’ll try not to let you get lost, Sakura-chan, but I don’t think I can make any promises,” Katsuyu quipped cheerily, Sakura smiling wryly. “I’m going to let the barrier down, Sanzang-san. I think you’ll know when to raise it again.”

At that, it was as if a veil of heavy air had been lifted, Sakura’s pupils dilated hugely as a rolling wave of what could be only described as raw, primal power washed over them. Sanzang inhaled deeply as it did, Sakura entranced before it suddenly weighed like stone. “I— What is this?” she gasped as its might become incalculably heavy, forced to genuflect as it felt as though her innards were being dragged down by its gravity.

“Natural energy. Shikkotsurin possesses it in much more potent amounts than the other sage regions. Perhaps Katsuyu-sama could help you regulate it—”

“No!” Sakura nearly shouted at Sanzang. “Sorry, but no. I think I know what to do.”

Seating herself in a lotus position, the technique behind the Body Pathway Derangement came to mind, of the taking and expelling chakra, and even the mechanics behind her own Byakugō that she’d developed a system of returning a small amount of chakra to her own reserves that she did unconsciously. Though no Hyūga, Sakura had memorized the location of her body’s tenketsu and possessed enough control to release chakra at nodes other than her hands or feet.

Inhaling deeply, she opened herself to receiving this natural energy, momentarily kneading it with her own chakra before expelling it from tenketsu along her arms and legs, even her head. Like the unconsciousness behind her storing chakra in her Byakugō even when unconscious, she developed a rhythm: channeling natural energy inside her on the inhale, and in the breadth between did Sakura knead it minutely with her own chakra like skimming wind over water, all before expelling it again from her tenketsu. Soon, it felt as natural as breathing, and she became lighter, more invigorated.

“Fascinating,” Sanzang breathed when she was finished, no longer drowning in the heavy natural energies. “Normally, it takes years for a novice to be able to self-regulate like that. And it only took you a few minutes.”

Sakura flustered under the praise, hands held in placation. “It’s nothing, really! It doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll become a talented sage, or anything.”

Katsuyu chuckled at her modesty. “Self-regulating is extremely hard to do, Sakura-chan. Even Naruto-kun didn’t pick it up nearly as quickly, from what Shima-sama and Fukusaku-sama have told me. And he has the Kyūbi to help him.”

Sakura couldn’t help but glow under Katsuyu’s observation, knowing the sage was right. She didn’t have a legendary lineage or special, innate abilities or entities that gave her an edge like Sasuke or Naruto, or many of her peers. Though her confidence felt boosted, she wouldn’t let it get to her head.

“Thank you, Katsuyu-sama, Sanzang-san. I think this means we’re ready to go, right?” The monk nodded, leading her to a jutting dock projected over the waters from a short flight of stairs from the veranda, the brilliantly reflecting waters lapping against the small pier.

“Good luck with your training, Sakura-san. I look forward to hearing tales of your endeavors,” the monk said with a respectful bow, Sakura returning it before she stepped out onto the water, balancing on its surface easily. She returned it, taking a few steps forth before Sanzang gestured a single hand seal, the temple shivering before it disappeared from sight entirely.

There was no going back now.

In the speed only a kunoichi like her could muster, Sakura and Katsuyu’s sojourn towards Shikkotsurin was a relatively short one. Yet, she couldn’t help but gape at times as those luminous trees that arced into the clouds themselves grew even larger, megalithic with the trunks of the closest she could see easily the same radius as a whole city block.

The din of the jungle only intensified, spellbound as it crested over her like a tsunami, insects and greater beings alike extant that she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“We’re going to head 20 miles into the interior. And, Sakura-chan, I should warn you: kaijū inhabit this forest, many of whom are Jōnin-level or higher. But, all of them are saturated in natural energy and will be much more powerful than those that exist outside,” Katsuyu bewared as they advanced on the shoreline, Sakura feeling a thrill of excitement.

“Are these kaijū stronger than even Manda, or toads like Gamabunta?” she queried as her pace slowed, coming to the long shoreline as the forest proper beckoned her hauntingly, invitingly.

“Yes, considerably. Even Tsunade-sama would struggle against them, but you’re stronger than her now. Please, be careful.”

Katsuyu’s words of caution weren’t wasted. From within, Sakura could tell that no external light except what was bioluminscent occupied the forest, the underbrush and trees much closer to a ‘normal’ size and other variant flora that bloomed. All were awash in refulgent hues of light, bewitching to see. Leaves scintillated like gems in a heavy, humid breeze, flowers with petals large enough to trek of a pale violet supporting her easily as Sakura bounded from its massive petals playfully to a massive mushroom nearby, its glowing green top soft to the touch as she alighted upon it.

“Is this what it feels like to be a pixie in a fairy tale? Everything’s huge!” Sakura laughed elatedly, sliding down a stem of a pale blue fern whose leaves flickered out as it reflexively closed in her wake upon contact with her. Bouncing to her feet back on the forest floor, a trail of spongy jade moss led her on a meandering path towards the roar of a waterfall, stopping short of a mighty river that gleamed a cool cobalt, Sakura able to see to the bottom that had to be dozens of meters deep. Fish the size of houses swam through its depths, each variant shades of red to gold, blazing like gems beneath its surface.

What truly commanded her attention was a mighty waterfall that had to be at least seventy meters wide, its waters the same ultraviolet cobalt as the river, cresting over a black cliff that framed it perfectly, though it wasn’t a torrential downpour in all places. Sakura was sure that, if she wished, she could stand under its spray at points and not have to worry about being crushed. Trees much smaller than the ones that densely populated the forest leaned over the river, ropy vines interlacing across like cables, Sakura springing to a rather large one that didn’t even sag under her weight. As girthy as a tree itself, it made for a calm vantage point to peacefully take in the vibrant scenery.

Glancing her shoulder, with a grin did she notice that even Katsuyu glowed. The slug’s body was a faint, milky white while her blue stripes were pronounced on her form, glowing like the forest around them. “Katsuyu-sama, you’re glowing, too!” Sakura exclaimed with a laugh, earning an amused look.

“So are you, Sakura-chan. Your eyes.”

Intrigued by that, Sakura fished in her back pouch for a compact mirror, held to hers. Just as Katsuyu had said, her eyes were glowing an electric jade like the forest around them, the kunoichi taken aback. “Whoa… That’s spooky. Is it the natural energy, Katsuyu-sama?” she questioned, transfixed by her own gaze.

“Yes, Sakura-chan. It’s not harmful, but as long as you channel natural energy, that is one of its byproducts.”

Their brief exchange was interrupted by an enormous kaijū emerging from the forest, tremors of its strides shaking even the dense vine they were perched upon. Sakura’s fingers instinctively dug into its mossy texture for purchase, still as she watched what was appearing.

Like everything else in the forest, a bipedal, reptilian kaijū that balanced on its forelegs and the wake of its serpentine tail that couldn’t have been less than 80 feet tall at the shoulder lumbered to the river’s embankment, Sakura in awe of the exoskeleton that encased its body in impossibly tough armor, its white skull pronounced by the spectral glow that was present in most of Shikkotsurin’s fauna, noticing the way its chest cavity extended into a tall that lingered long into the underbrush, Sakura mentally calculating that it couldn’t be less than 200 feet in length. Veins like LED cables pulsated throughout its body where the exoskeleton didn’t cover, slivers through the bony plates that had them palpitating with light running its enormous length that confirmed her initial idea.

Bracing on the water’s edge, a red fish the size of a large boat swam languidly near, falling silent before its head then snapped with a tumultuous splash that lashed water high enough to hit even her, Sakura laughing as the mildly warm water splashed her. Shaking her hair out, she watched raptly at the fish now impaled on its wicked fangs, limp from a sudden death, all before tossing its prey once, twice, then swallowing it whole, forked tongue snaking from its maw, even its mouth and throat aglow with a vivid, infernal blue.

However, if the kaijū’s tongue operated anything like its legless cousins, it scented her. With a rumbling growl Sakura felt through her chest did the kaijū’s eyes hone on her, pivoting its head in profile to have a better view of her.

“Katsuyu-sama?” Sakura asked tensely, hairs on her nape bristling. “This thing probably wants to eat me now, right?”

“Ah—yes, Sakura-chan,” Katsuyu answered after a brief delay, as riveted in place as Sakura was.

Well, not for long, at least. When was the last time she’d fought something this big, if ever?

“Word of advice: hang on,” she warned as a brazen, elated smirk crossed her features.

With her Chakra-Enhanced Strength did Sakura grip the vine and yank it manfully that elicited the tearing of branches from the heights the vine sourced from, falling in a delayed descent that gave her enough time to utilize the Chakra Scalpel with her free hand, lengthening its reach to that of a chakra blade a few feet long. Cleaving through the vine's thick girth easily, the momentum saw her gripping the vine anew and whipping it over her head with mighty force, suspended in air for a moment before she brought it in a powerful arc down upon the kaijū.

It screeched indignantly as the massive vine buffeted it, falling into the river with a massive splash despite how Sakura couldn’t help but notice as the kaijū rolled and righted itself—on the river’s surface. Exactly like a seasoned shinobi could on instinct.

 _Wow, Katsuyu-sama really wasn’t kidding about the kaijū here,_ Sakura thought as she landed squarely on the river’s surface, squaring off with the massive kaijū poised to attack.

Like a bludgeon did it slam its massive tail on the river’s surface in what Sakura interpreted as a challenge, smiting it against each bank successively, grinning despite herself. **“COME ON!”** she roared defiantly, the kaijū issuing a trumpeting bellow that resonated atmospherically without in reply.

Luning forth with a roar that shredded her very eardrums, charging into a long lope did Sakura reply in kind, leaping high into the very air several feet above its head where she charged her chakra into her _Cherry Blossom Violent Impact_ , diving until the hit connected and the burst of chakra collided with the dense cranium. The inertia and the bony crack of collision drove its head into the very water from impact, a rush of water soaking Sakura as she barely managed to leap away, but not before it recovered.

Wheeling its massive body was no easy feat, and with the alacrity it did, she barely had time to think as its armored tail slammed into her body that knocked the wind clean from her lungs, sailing until she collided with one one of the trees, cratering on impact.

Buried amid a sharp nest of thorny splinters, Sakura coughed as she hazily regained her breath before her awareness revived with her vision filling with the oven-hot, fluorescent blue maw of the kaijū as it intended on clamping down and devouring her like its prey.

Like hell she’d be anyone’s prey, kaijū or not.

With a snarl did she recover with a vicious right hook against its snout that buffeted it from its trajectory, a gurgling roar bellowed from its throat as Sakura leapt free of the tree she’d been arrested against and launched into the air, careening towards its very body. Racing down the length of its glowing spine, she found part of the tail she could wrap her arms around and grappled for purchase, a surge of chakra racing through her limbs.

“ **SHANARŌŌŌŌ!”**

With her signature war cry did she haul the kaijū towards her for purchase before the momentum of it allowed her to properly hurl the beast over her head despite how many hundreds of tons she suspected it was. Its head tore through the roof of the canopy draping over the river, all as she tossed it mightily and sent it hurtling dozens of meters away with its strangled roar following in its wake.

Scrambling to collect itself on the water’s surface, like before it recomposed and begun a renewed charge, galloping towards her. A muscle beneath Sakura’s eye twitched as she raced to meet it, racing towards the kaijū before it skidded to a halt and bugled, Sakura holding her ground and baring her teeth in a snarl. Stamping one of its forelegs once, the kaijū gave a satisfied snort and pivoted to turn away, shambling into the deep woods it had come with in a noisy retreat.

Sakura blinked stupidly at the trail of trampled plants in its wake, the entire moment feeling too surreal to be real. “Did… that just happen?” she asked aloud, still too dumbfounded in spite of herself.

“Yes, Sakura-chan, that did happen,” Katsuyu simpered with an amused chuckle. “You did well, even while regulating natural energies in combat. How do you feel?”

“Like I could fight a dozen more of those things and not get tired,” Sakura answered pensively, adrenaline pouring throughout her body, feeling wired and combative. “And I haven’t even started sage training yet; not really, at least. It feels good to fight something again. I was going stir crazy with all the investigating I’ve been doing.”

Though it was for a good cause, Sakura wasn’t an introvert like Sasuke by nature. Doing something that didn’t have monstrous consequences perched on her shoulders felt liberating. That no matter what was done here, she wouldn’t tip the global scales. She was in her own little world, free to explore and fight and train under one of her best friends without negative repercussions. Just the thrill of feeling more alive than she had in ages.

“I’m happy for you, Sakura-chan. Now, let’s hurry to where we need to be. There’s something I want to do before you rest and begin training in earnest tomorrow morning.”

* * *

The rest of the journey to their destination was largely uneventful, it nonetheless inspired the same wonder and possessed the same splendor as every other part of the forest, and to think: she’d barely explored the fullness of it. It was but one path, one river, one way that could become an infinite amount. In this new chapter of her life, all Sakura could think about was the fairy tale wonder Shikkotsurin held, convinced it would remain that way for as long as she remained there.

It was through a cavity that they came to a plunging river valley, a thick canopy cascading down the mountainsides as the trek became noticeably more inclined, Sakura taking to the trees so she’d have a fluid trek there despite being extremely surefooted as a kunoichi, ultraviolet leaves lighting her paths in this place that was never dark.

Coming to the valley’s trough did the humid breath of the jungle lighten somewhat, passing through a cascade of vines as the mighty sound of a waterfall plunging into fathomless depths greeted her, encompassing the entire complex, awed by what was stumbled upon.

An open-air temple complex sprawled before them, stairs ascending and descending from irregular rooms that seemed inset into the cliff sides and nestled in brambles of luminous trees that coiled lusciously betwixt mortar and leaf alike. The natural energy here felt heavier than what she’d encountered upon the barriers being lowered upon first arriving, having to channel and expel more than she initially had to. At its very epicenter was the open antechamber from which all the others joined, a nexus that seemed its heart. A massive tree with tangled roots dominated its zenith, forming a natural shelter. Its trunk glistened a pulsating ivory, leaves bearing a tinge of gold that shimmered brightly as sunlight, washing the space in a creamy hue as if the sun itself was enshrined above them.

“This is our Temple of the Inner Path, Sakura-chan. It’s where you’ll be spending most of your time training,” Katsuyu explained as Sakura descended a winding, crumbling stairway that fed directly to the nexus point, marveling at the tree at its center. “Each of the sage regions possess one, and it's our most sacred space. It’s where the natural energies are concentrated at its strongest, and where sages spend most of their time in study and practice alike.”

“It’s beautiful,” Sakura marveled, unable to help her gaze that ranged between the many rooms set into the mountainsides. “Will I get the grand tour soon?”

Katsuyu hummed in amusement. “Yes, but first, I want you to find a comfortable place to sit at the base of the tree.”

Sakura did as was asked of her, assuming the lotus position that seemed the most natural. On a flat dais did she sit, worn smooth but what she assumed was the handiwork of sages past. An eye cracked open when she felt Katsuyu slither down her spine, positioned between her shoulder blades. Before she could inquire as to what the sage was doing, she felt what could only be described of igneous barbs embedding into her spine, digging into the spinal column as a heated sensation blazed through her body.

“Katsuyu-sama, what are you…?” Sakura panted, concentrating on breathing and regulating the natural energies that saturated her, realizing that Katsuyu was the one controlling the intake and emission of it now. _Katsuyu can do that?_ she thought through the haze of pain before it began to gradually subside.

“I’m going to use _Onmyōdō: The Way to Spiritual Power Through Discipline_ on you, Sakura-chan. It’s going to help me determine what must be before we begin your training formally.”

Sakura’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Hang on, Onmyōdō? Is that safe?”

“Yes. Eons ago, before Hagoromo-sama spread his chakra through Ninshū, what existed was ancient senjutsu: Onmyōdō, the precursor to Yang Release, and In’yōdō, the ancestor of Yin Release, much like how all chakra natures source from Yin and Yang Releases. In those days, humans and we sage animals only possessed spiritual energy that we kneaded with natural energies, but it was only able to be achieved through a long and complicated process that allowed us to utilize it at all. However, this changed when Hagoromo-sama spread his chakra, joining people’s physical and spiritual energies into the chakra we wield today. Now, very few people can utilize either Onmyōdō or In’yōdō, but their powers are varied and incalculably powerful, depending on the user, of course.”

Sakura’s mind boggled at what she’d been told. There was a form of senjutsu that existed before what she was going to be taught, and Katsuyu knew it? Although the sage had explained it succinctly, she could only imagine what it was able to do.

“Hang on, so the Six Path senjutsu Naruto received… Onmyōdō and In’yōdō are stronger than even that?” she ventured, glancing back at Katsuyu whose eye stalks craned to meet her gaze.

“Yes. One technique alone can give one access to every nature transformation conceivable while another still can regenerate a body from a strand of hair and, while joined with In’yōdō, can bring back the dead. And this is only two of them. However,” Sakura felt Katsuyu shift, hissing as the burning barbs dug into her deeper, “please be quiet now, Sakura-chan.”

Sakura inhaled a grounding breath, withdrawing her consciousness into her mind, focusing on the psychic bond that joined student and sage together. Though the pain was immense, she’d endured far, far worse and still prevailed. If anything, she trusted Katsuyu with her life. The bond they shared, and would share, went deeper than the roots of the oldest tree.

Within her mind’s eye, she saw amorphous colors spread like a dawn through vast clouds, dying it firstly teal and jade, then concentrating to a murky brown, rose gold, and finally a bloom of peridot. “These colors… what they mean, Katsuyu-sama?”

The sage was quiet for a moment, as if sifting through the hues like panning for gold, all before she spoke again. “These colors represent nature transformations I can unlock, Sakura-chan. However, they would only become Kekkei Tōta and cannot be passed on. I did the same with Hashirama-sama a century ago when I used this same technique to unlock Wood Release in him.”

Sakura felt her mouth go dry, eyes fluttering open from her meditative state. “Hang on, so—Hashirama-sama was the Slug Sage before me?” she questioned disbelievingly, a chill running down her spine.

“Yes, Sakura-chan. It’s why he was the only one of the Senju able to utilize Wood Release.”

“So, I can unlock three? Though… what are these?”

“The first is a combination of Earth and Water Releases, Mud Release. The next is simply Earth Release, but it is powerful—Crystal Release. And the last is Earth and Water Release… Bloom Release. It’s almost identical to Wood Release, but not quite. Though this technique can do much, as I have Earth, Water, and Yin-Yang Releases, it wouldn’t work if we didn’t possess the same or similar nature types.”

Sakura felt herself go rigid at the mention of Bloom Release, clenched her hands into fists until they blanched. She didn’t know why it garnered such a reaction from her, mind wandering to the war that had just concluded months ago, gaze dropping to her lap. It seemed fitting, didn’t it? Her friends were the descendants of Asura and Indra Ōtsutsuki, and Hashirama and Madara before even that. Sakura had trained under Hashirama’s descendant, but that jaded part of her that saw her team mates return from the brink of death leagues stronger than before. All because they had faced death and Hagoromo recognized them as his sons' descendants.

It was stupid, and petty, that she’d feel envious, but once the exhaustion and adrenaline of the war had seeped away, she’d been left feeling empty. Like all of her dogged training under Tsunade had been meaningless since she’d been supplanted again. Sakura had promised they’d stand on equal ground, that they would watch her back, but it had all been wrenched away in circumstances beyond her control. They were descended from legendary clans, the blood relatives of demigods.

And Sakura Haruno was just an ordinary little nobody who had gotten lucky. The daughter of no-name civilians she’d been teased relentlessly for as a child. She grit her teeth until her jaw set and temples throbbed.

“Katsuyu-sama, do it. Please, unlock those nature transformations in me!” Sakura exclaimed suddenly, the fervor to move beyond where she’d been growing stagnant rising to a feverish pitch.

“Sakura-chan, please brace yourself,” Katsuyu said enigmatically, Sakura’s brow furrowing in bemusement before she understood what the sage meant.

Sakura’s mouth gaped in a silent scream as unimaginable, blistering pain poured through her from where they were merged, fingers digging into her palms until they felt wet and warm with her own blood. Soon, her body became wracked with shivers, a cold sweat enveloping her as nausea roiled in her stomach. Though Sakura tried to steel herself, she lurched forth on her palms to vomit, eyes accumulating with tears as her stomach contracted in her gut and rejected its contents, throat stinging sourly as all she could taste was acid on her tongue.

Eyes watering, Sakura struggled to stand, unable to force herself to remain in a lotus position any longer. “Katsuyu-sama… no matter what, keep going! Until you’re finished!” Sakura’s voice rasped despite her resolve, spitting out a last bit of sour bile, grimacing from the taste.

Sakura’s breath came raggedly as she shambled around the roots in laps before resolving to try and sit again, body wracked with tremors. It were as though someone had drenched her in ice cold water, only to be tossed on a hot pan to marinate. The sudden fluctuations were torture on her body, but as she stumbled towards the dais she’d begun upon, the kunoichi sank uneasily on the smooth wood, sweat pouring from her brow and making it difficult to see, hair clinging wetly to her cheeks.

Though it wasn’t unpleasant, unpleasant minutes lapsed into bearable hours as she forced her consciousness down, trying to find the bridge with Katsuyu again despite how heavily she clung to the girl’s perspiring back. Though the feverish sensations didn’t subside, her vision faded to blackness, only to be filled with the same muddy brown as before.

So, she grappled for it, clawing at it like brambles clinging to skin and affixing it to her psyche, stitching brown to teal and jade; though it took immense concentration and effort, soon it was hitched to her being like patches on a quilt.

She did this again with the rosy blob in her mind’s eye, the largest of the three. It was harder to rein in, resisting her despite how fiercely Sakura fought for it, her exhaustion made it difficult but not impossible. It felt as though she was running over hot coals, body wracked anew with quaking and sweating like it'd rained on her. And still, stubbornness won until it was proudly attached to her aura like a trophy.

All that remained was the jade cloud. It was a little larger than the brown, but not by much. Even so, it was denser, like cotton compared to the mist of the rose and plume of the brown. Still, she latched on to it until her muscles ached, mind throbbing with an intense migraine as the kunoichi yanked and pulled the jade to slowly and gradually leash it to her. Until, with a final stitch, it was affixed as soundly as the others, an arrangement of hues that had her beaming with pride. 

Katsuyu gently loosed her hold on Sakura’s back, the young woman falling back on her rump with a soft groan as pain locked her limbs and her head pounded like primal drums. When she attempted to self-medicate with the Mystical Palms Aura—a seal-devoid variant of the Mystical Palms Technique she’d developed on the fly during her battle with Sasori—only to find that it was useless, a psychic level of fatigue it couldn’t abate.

“I’m sorry for that, Sakura-chan, but something happened.” Sakura peered up at the sage through her sweaty haze. “Your chakra is… unusual. It possesses more spiritual energy than physical, and trying to proceed as expected caused it to awry. I’m sorry. This process is often difficult, but I didn’t expect this.”

Sakura’s brow puckered in mild confusion, glancing at her trembling hand as if it were the most fascinating study conceivable. “It’s okay, Katsuyu-sama; it’s not like you meant for it to happen. But… more spiritual energy? Aren’t people supposed to have equal amounts of both?”

“Normally, yes, but… I’ve never seen something like this before. I begun anticipating that your spiritual and physical energies would be equivocal, yet…” Katsuyu faltered, Sakura closing her hand to gaze properly at the sage.

“It’s funny you should say that,” Sakura admitted quietly, brushing aside tussled, sweaty locks behind the shell of her ear. “I remember how the chakra paper test could never determine what my affinity was. Maybe this is why?”

Katsuyu nestled herself by Sakura’s knee, the girl smiling fondly at her teacher. “It could be something to look into soon, Sakura-chan. For now, however, why don’t you bathe and retire for the night? We can begin our training tomorrow afternoon.”

As the high from being newly exposed to natural energy wore off and the consequences of her excruciating trial sank in, Sakura nodded sleepily, compliantly. “Yeah, no kidding… Here’s hoping the nice water doesn’t put me to sleep,” Sakura jested, all before stretching out her limbs gingerly, joints popping.

She felt as though she could use a few dozen baths, honestly.

Because tomorrow, the real ordeals were set to begin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, there’s a lot going on in this chapter, especially since Sakura finally gets to Shikkotsurin, which is a huge part of her story. But, I digress. Apologies for the essay, but hopefully this explains a lot. 
> 
> To begin, the setting, for parallels, is visually a lot like Pandora at night ala James Cameron’s Avatar. That, and the kaijū that inhabit it will fall anywhere between Warner Bros’ Monsterverse and Pacific rim kaijū. Kishimoto fricked up a lot of things, but at least kaijū are 100% canon hue— Also, I have some self-indulgent photo manips of both the [Temple of the Inner Path](https://chalabrun.tumblr.com/post/619221770161061888/shikkotsunin-altar-of-the-inner-path) and [Shikkotsurin](https://chalabrun.tumblr.com/post/619204790999728128/shikkotsunin-shikkotsu-underground) themselves.
> 
> Secondly, [the sensing technique](https://amitds.tumblr.com/post/186805277690/new-novel-feat-for-sakura-in-sasuke-retsuden) Sakura utilizes in the beginning of the chapter is canon in Sasuke Retsuden. While it unfortunately doesn’t have a name, I deigned to call it the Third Eye Gate. It differs from normal sensing techniques in that it senses people, inanimate objects, traps, etc., while normal sensors can sense chakra (with sensors like Mada or Tobi able to sense clan, origination, etc.).
> 
> The next, and a huge cornerstone of the story, is the existence of In’yōdō (prehistoric Yin Release)/Onmyōdō (prehistoric Yang Release). While I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s 100% canon, some discrepancies in the anime and extraneous material (even though I take mainly from the manga) justify its existence. (Additionally, In’yōdō/Onmyōdō is the name of real world Japanese occultism.)  
>  **What is it?** Onmyōdō/In’yōdō are basically ancient, pre-Ōtsutsuki senjutsu. The reason this is so is, when Hagoromo and Hamura trained with the toads at Myōbokuzan, it raises a question: if this is before Hagoromo spread/gave chakra to people and beings across the world, what were the toads doing that would have them possess an established practice enough to teach Hagoromo and Hamura senjutsu when its only existed in Kaguya and her sons up to that point? Hence my headcanon.  
>  **How is it created?** This is another conundrum that is ironically answered by the Divine Tree itself. What it does, to create Chakra Fruit, is absorb both the natural energies of a planet and the spiritual energies present in deceased people that source from their dead bodies. Which is what Onmyōdō/In’yōdō is: the balancing of spiritual energies inherent in living people with natural energies of the earth.  
>  **Where does it exist in canon?** The strongest candidates are [Mōryō](https://naruto.fandom.com/wiki/M%C5%8Dry%C5%8D) and the [Zero-Tails](https://naruto.fandom.com/wiki/Zero-Tails) that ‘justifies’ In'yōdō and [the Stone of Gelel](https://naruto.fandom.com/wiki/Stone_of_Gelel) that does that same for Onmyōdō. What these both have in common is that neither of these things are related to chakra as the world knows it. The Stone of Gelel, especially, doesn’t utilize chakra but is capable of feats such as creating enough energy to destroy a continent, grant immortality and extreme regeneration, and bestowing unique abilities.
> 
> Additionally, I do have a different take on Hashirama’s Wood Release, and why Sakura’s technique isn’t Wood Release. Instead of it being a kekkei genkai, I genuinely believe that Wood Release is instead a [kekkei tōta](https://naruto.fandom.com/wiki/Kekkei_T%C5%8Dta). While canon limits its definition to being nature transformations with 3 chakra natures, I disagree. A kekkei tōta is translated as being a bloodline _selection_. As we know, Hashirama didn’t inherit it, nor does his descendants possess it (Asura being the first user be damned). Further, all kekkei schools (genkai, tōta, mōra) possess both genetic abilities/mutations (like dōjutsu) or unique nature transformations. Kekkei genkai are inherited, kekkei tōta are selective, and kekkei mōra can only pass to Kaguya’s descendants (like the Byakugan). Meaning, kekkei tōta can be these things as well. [Dust Release](https://naruto.fandom.com/wiki/Dust_Release)—the only kekkei tōta known—can be learned, as it appears to be the case between Lord Mu teaching Ōnoki. Additionally, dust release cannot be inherited, as Ōnoki's biological granddaughter isn't shown using dust release despite being her direct descendant, much like Tsunade cannot use wood release. Despite this, Kū and Kakō—whom are genetic clones based on Ōnoki—possess dust release, much like how Yamato has wood release due to possessing Hashirama cells.


	8. Chapter 8

Warning(s): T, none

* * *

Her sleep had been dreamless, bathed in an unconsciousness that might rival death itself.

Sakura awoke to the pulsing glow permeating through her thin bedroll, almost forgetting where she was before the air flooded sweet and vivid in her lungs. Within a niche etched from the depths of the Temple, a place where initiates like her were deigned to sleep—at least, that’s what Katsuyu had told her—she felt as though she’d slept better now than she ever had. In a strange place thousands of miles away from home, a phantom of Sasuke hadn’t been waiting for her at the bottom of a dark stairwell. No terrifyingly exact recollections of her heart being gored through with lightning and the chaos of a thousand chattering songbirds.

Glancing through the small entryway into her cloistered cell, it was still the same, nocturnal and changeless beauty of before. The flora and fauna were a riot of ultraviolet color, starlight itself given to the earth. The air was heavier, richer. The fact that Sakura hadn’t turned to stone felt like an accomplishment, given that it seemed being unable to regulate the natural energy thick as blood would have lead down the cold, silvery road to death.

It felt like a test passed. If Naruto could gain sage mode in a week, who knew what she might be one day capable of?

Sakura's self-congratulatory mood was muzzled the moment she stood, swaying dizzily. Her palm braced on the wall the moment she careened towards it, clutching her churning stomach. “The hell…?” she muttered to herself, blinking hard. The clammy sensation from the night before crawled on her skin like insects, the woman heaving a breath as she tried to steady herself.

It had to be the nature transformations Katsuyu had unleashed in her, it just had to be. With her spiritual energies greater than her physical, even though Sakura didn’t understand it, she wondered if it was just something she had to get over.

Though her skin felt tacky from the exertion of the battle with the kaiju from the day before, Sakura made a clumsy exit from the cell she’d slept within and made her path through a cascading wall of glowing ivy and radiant clematis blossoms, showering above her head in a natural tunnel formation, before the suspended stairwell over the chasm of lit fog and walls of crushing waterfalls was stumbled upon and soon led her towards the open-air atrium of the temple, knowing she’d likely be in store for training for the rest of her day.

“Katsuyu-sensei? You here?” she broached carefully, a chorus of birds of paradise trilling cavernously over the sound of her easily subdued voice. The kunoichi startled when something moist yet small dropped to her shoulder.

“Ōname Sennin won’t be teaching you senjutsu today, Sakura-chan,” a feminine, bright voice answered instead, Sakura finally seeing its source: like Katsuyu often did, a palm-sized slug was perched upon her shoulder, bearing violet stripes instead of gunmetal blue. Otherwise, she looked remarkably similar to Katsuyu. “Call me Kaya-sensei. You can do that, can’t you, little human?”

Sakura swallowed roughly, throat dry. “Yes, Kaya-sensei. Um… would you mind if I got some breakfast before we began?” Though she still felt rotten from the night before, Sakura assumed it simply go away the longer she spent here.

“Of course, Sakura-chan.”

Finding a high-energy protein bar in her back pouch, Sakura nibbled on it despite how her face contorted on its unpleasant taste. “It tastes like chalk,” she observed in dismay after a difficult swallow, never having such a problem before.

“You’re not of Shikkotsurin. You need something from this place, Sakura-chan. Look there.”

At the slug’s beckon, Sakura spied small, phosphorescent berries growing in sprigs from lush vines coiling around one of the temple’s columns that comprised one of its colonnades, grasping for a handful among the dense foliage. Popping one in her mouth, Sakura’s knees almost buckled from how good it tasted, something that was at the level of whatever physiological changes her body was subjected to in this fantastic, otherworldly place.

“It’s good!” the kunoichi exclaimed in surprise, almost expecting it to taste like battery acid or something else unpalatable. Devouring the rest, she groped for more among the brambles like a child frantically stuffing as much candy into her mouth before her strict mother could see. Before long, Sakura felt renewed, the roil in her gut calmed considerably. Though much of her wondered if she wouldn’t benefit from a thorough bath, much of her was too intrigued to begin sage training in earnest to mind much.

“So, do you want to begin, or would you rather hunt for berries instead?” Kaya quipped tartly, impatience coloring her tone.

“I’m ready to begin. Sorry, Kaya-sensei.” Though, Sakura didn’t feel the least bit apologetic.

“I want you to make me four hundred rings, and bracelets, for my eye stalks. And you can only use your new kekkei tōta.”

“Hang on, jewelry? You want me to make—“ Before Sakura could even finish what she was saying, her shoulder felt suddenly lighter, befuddled as to how the slug could have moved so quickly, even though Katsuyu had been blisteringly swift in the past. “…Never mind then.”

Though puzzled as to how she was supposed to achieve that without being taught, part of Sakura wondered if Kaya was even _able_ to. After all, she’d personally never heard of the nature transformations she now possessed. Maybe it would be up to her to furnish their methodology. The only thing she was more skilled at (she thought) than her ability to retain information easily were her powers of adaptation and persistence. Someone could give her book at sunup and she’d be able to utilize information from it by sundown. 

Ascending a connected stairwell was Sakura submerged in a heady fog of fragrance and iridescent leaves before it opened into a cavernous atrium. With no vaulted ceilings to speak of, from the interrupted flagstones did myriad glowing trees erupt, twining through holes and crevices of their own make and not, the sunken floor shimmering with waters cascading from one of the upper galleries since overgrown and made a waterfall of. The luminous blue waters cast scales of light upon the flora, a studious atmosphere hanging like the mist that poured through the empty spaces.

A great morass of roots at its epicenter concentrated into a nexus of boughs that dispersed into a web of branches and starry leaves, the curving branches seeming to beckon her into that cusp like the hand of a god. Maybe it was here she was meant to study.

Bounding in a single leap to that promised niche at the center of such an overgrown space, she sat atop a bundle of branches wreathed in ultraviolet leaves that enclosed the space like a canopy, meditating for a moment: sure as the sweet humidity itself, she could see the cloud of those three new nature transformations mingling with the chakra natures already extant in the back of her mind.

“How the hell do I get these to work?” Sakura muttered to herself, all before a slightly stupid notion crossed her mind. Forming the hand seal of the snake, she plunged a finger of her psyche into the jade cloud, feeling a connection bridging like she did with her other chakra natures. Bringing the hand seal to eye level, she then released her hands outward.

“Um— Wood Release: Deep Forest Emergence!”

With her palms out before her, Sakura stood dumbly, feeling self-conscious and stupid. It was worth a shot, wasn’t it? This Bloom Release was like Wood Release, but also wasn’t? How the hell was she supposed to get it work?

Sakura stood contemplatively, a memory niggling at the edge of her mind: just three and half years ago, she, Naruto, and Neji had sojourned to the Land of Demons to guard the incumbent high priestess, Shion. On the way there, as she did, Sakura had made a careful study of their land and culture beforehand. One thing that made it highly distinct from the rest of the world was the fact that they had special chakra in some of their population, even though it wasn’t understood in what way. That, and they utilized hand seals completely divorced from the standard twelve.

Reppyō, with Rep being similar to the Snake…

Sakura tried the hand sign, heart pounding into her throat and eyes squeezed closed, dipping her psyche into the jade plume again, feeling a jolt of connection race down her spine. A loud groan sounded throughout, the kunoichi’s eyes snapping open as she watched on in awe as a flowering cherry tree sprouted from the tangle of roots from the native trees, its bark bearing veins of green light, ascending into the rapidly flowering umbrage.

“H-holy _shit_ —” Sakura gasped at the sight of it, the groaning rising in decibels as a daring thought crossed her mind. Of the natural energies coursing through her body, she intentionally channeled it into her jutsu, jaw almost dropping at how it immediately grew even faster, cresting higher and higher until it became the new focal point of the atrium.

Lowering her palms and breaking the jutsu, Sakura couldn’t help but marvel at what had been created.

Though her chakra pools weren’t nearly as vast as Naruto or Sasuke’s, for someone without a vaunted lineage, she was damn proud of how large her reserves had become over the years. After all, healing thousands of people _twice_ during the war wasn’t something to sniff at. And that was all while her Byakugō hadn’t been activated, of all things. Not even her perfect chakra control could compensate for that much strenuous usage.

With a childish glee did the kunoichi leap into its boughs, nostrils flooding with the heady sweetness of cherry blossoms. _Bloom_ Release. Gods, was it fitting.

“Hah, I’m practically the Shodai Hokage! Hang on, maybe I can try to recreate that one jutsu…”

Just as Sakura meant to do just that, her enthusiasm deflated at a single realization.

As cool as it was, as much as Sakura’s first instinct would be to hunt down her friends and demonstrate, a cold chill of realization knew it wouldn’t be possible. Like what Ibiki had warned, and Madara had emphasized, it would be too risky. With everything as fragile as it was, toeing the line between being on the threshold of revolutionizing mental health and exposing her sordid investigations prematurely, the last thing she needed was to draw unwanted attention to herself. That, and she wasn’t oblivious to how notorious she’d become after the war, the world now knowing she was heiress to Tsunade’s ability and infamy, as much as she disagreed with it. If she suddenly started brandishing her new abilities to a world that licked its chops at the thought of the most coveted nature transformation of the God of Shinobi, she’d be toast. Even if it was just a variant.

On a darker line of a thought, a morbid epiphany dawned.

Sakura wasn’t naive enough to think that these trials would end happily. That all would be forgiven and the world that had visibly suffered under the heel of three Uchiha at varying intervals of the war would absolve them after she did this. Whistle-blowers were rarely exonerated until well after they’d died rotting in some cell in a forgotten corner of the world. When those that hated them for telling the truth had died and their descendants could view history through a lax, detached lens. The girl that was the hospital darling would be trampled on in the mud, and she could see it from miles away.

For now, the world had to know her as the girl who could upend the earth and heal everything thrown at her. She had to cultivate this secret arsenal, and no one could know about it. More than that, she had to keep training so the Inner Path could recognize her. She needed allies that weren’t attached to Konoha, and this meant the slugs beyond just Katsuyu.

Her future was sprinting towards her with an open mouth full of fangs, and all she could do was brace for it and grapple so she wouldn’t be devoured.

The loud staccato of something unnaturally traveling over bark saw her stiffen, swallowing thickly before sinking to her haunches on the enormous branch she occupied, closing her eyes as she invoked the Third Eye Gate, pulsations of chakra rippled through the earth.

However, before she could process what she was seeing, what appeared to be an enormous centipede had since scaled the trunk of her tree and lunged at her, Sakura stifling a yelp as its wicked mandibles seized her head in a vice, the pain intense even as she utilized Blackthorn Winter to amass chakra in her skull so the man-sized insect wouldn’t crush it. Yet, as its segmented body coiled hers like a serpent, keeping her immobile. Even as she stamped on its tail and eviscerated several segments, a disembodied, raspy laugh sounded in her mind.

As its vice on her skull increased, Sakura felt her body go limp. Paralysis seeped into her body, slumping in the centipede’s coils while that laugh echoed with dissonance, Sakura frantically wondering if it was genjutsu. Yet, as she concentrated on alternating the stream of her chakra enough to break it, nothing happened. Her body was still boneless.

_You struggle too much, girl. And what racket you were making, creating this tree like that brat boy did._

Sakura’s breath quickened through her nostrils. _Are you going to devour me?_ Sakura demanded immediately.

 _I was… but I changed my mind._ Sakura’s eyes flickered upwards at her captor, forcing her breaths to still somewhat. _I am Ōmukade, child, eldest of the centipedes of Shikkotsurin._

_I’m… Sakura. Sakura Haruno._

_Sakura? What a pretty name!_ That detached chuckle sounded again. An androgynous, menacing sound. _You’re from the outside, aren’t you, Sakura Haruno?_

Sakura’s heart fluttered in her breast. _Yes._

_You certainly stink like it. Hm, I have a deal for you, girl: make a summoning contract with me, Sakura Haruno. My forest is my home, but I wish to see the world outside. My brethren and I could be of use to you, or… you can refuse, and I’ll devour you on the spot._

A… summoning contract? And for something so arbitrary? Though Sakura was bewildered by such an arbitrary consideration, she heaved a breath. _Alright, I’ll do it, Ōmukade-sama._

 _Smart girl,_ Ōmukade quipped with a devilishly smug note, giving Sakura no chance to back out when she felt no less than three of Ōmukade’s limbs impaled through her forearm, nerves afire as they drew a font of blood that dripped to the boughs of her cherry blossom tree. When those same legs were harshly withdrawn, Sakura’s mouth gaped in a soundless scream before the centipede suddenly uncoiled and she collapsed and was barely able to collect herself as the paralysis still held her in its vice.

Falling to her side and gaping like a fish, emerald light radiated from the wound site and Ōmukade watched with fiendishly glittering beady eyes, enthralled by the sight of her healing herself without even having to utilize hand signs. Gripping her forearm and the blood drying on her hand, Sakura’s breath steadied as the bleeding ceased, leaving three, distinct black circles branded into her skin like tattoos.

And to think, this had all been from a centipede with a newfound case of _wanderlust?_

Sakura carefully gathered herself as the paralysis receded, stilling when she watched Ōmukade’s feelers erratically switch, all before the centipede bolted away from her in the direction opposite of whatever was coming. Brow puckered in confusion, while Sakura watched Ōmukade’s retreat did the same groaning from before resound atmospherically, a chill running down Sakura’s spine as she realized what it could be.

“Hang on, did you make this?” a new yet bizarrely familiar masculine voice addressed her. “Are you training to become a sage?” The voice pitched in a boyish excitement, Sakura feeling her stomach drop when she realized who it could be.

From a massive tree of his own make did Hashirama Senju alight to hers, Sakura blanching the moment he did. Questions reeled dizzily in her mind, stomach tight with the nausea she’d felt from just hours ago, Ōmukade’s paralysis just receding as the… being advanced near her. Compared to months ago, feelings of admiration turned to dread, feeling as though something bleak had a stranglehold on her throat.

The man’s sunny, excited expression made her feel that dread intensely, skittishly scooted backwards despite Hashirama’s confused frown—even though she was too boggled to wonder how the hell she was talking to him again after Hagoromo had ushered every Edo Tensei soul back to the Pure Lands. Funny how the man giving her confused puppy-dog eyes was the embodiment of everything that filled her with dread to that point.

“Yeah,” she answered stiffly, maintaining a good meter between them. “My turn: how the hell are you… _alive?_ If you’re really who you’ll probably say you are.” Funnily enough, Ōmukade’s contract had come at an uncannily good time. If need be, she was certain she could utilize the centipede’s prowess to find out what needed to be, especially if this was meant to deceive her.

Confusion gave way to a melancholy air, shifting so suddenly it gave her whiplash. Sinking to sit cross-legged away from Sakura, armor clinking as he adjusted himself, the brunet uttered a soft exhale. “It’s the same way you and I got these nature releases. Ōnmyodo spans a breadth of techniques, and one of them is known as the ‘Living Ghost.’ …I became an Ōnmyoji just to learn it months before I died,” Hashirama explained, a heavy gravity surrounding him. “It allows you to give independent life to things like clones. Hence what you see before you.”

Sakura sucked in a breath, reeling with what she was hearing. “So, you’re…”

The former hokage smiled wryly, rapping his knuckles against his arm as a muffled, woody hollow replied from the action. Though, it was difficult to tell when his composition was nearly flawless, probably better than any of Naruto’s shadow clones. “I am who I am. Half of my power, all of my mind… to a point. I’ve been here for awhile.” Hashirama’s chuckle was pained, masking vulnerability beneath a sunny smile. It reminded her of what Naruto did. Sakura’s heart clenched sympathetically for him.

Sakura shifted to sit cross-legged, albeit loosely and much less formally. That much she could believe, because if Katsuyu didn’t trust him, how the hell would he know about her Ōnmyodo? Hell, even she hadn’t known since before yesterday, and she doubted that Tsunade knew, either.

That didn’t mean it was enough for her to trust him implicitly, especially considering what she was in the process of doing. Even at half of his ability, he was still the God of Shinobi and could crush her with the carelessness of a god.

“Okay… I believe you,” she conceded, still on her guard. Liquid amber eyes aglow from the natural energies like hers were flickered to hers, a hopefulness brimming. “Can I ask how you died?”

Hashirama licked his lips, eyes not quite able to meet hers. “I contracted a chakra virus. It was slowly eating away at my chakra system, killing me. I don’t remember what came after I was ‘created,’” Hashirama admitted, Sakura feeling herself quail in the intensity of his eyes, even if it was just from the glow. The corners of his lips lifted in a shadow of a smile. “Katsuyu-sama keeps me updated on what goes on in the world, even if I haven’t spoken to another human being in almost a century.”

The moodiness was shaken off when Hashirama brightened again. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude. You seem like you know who I am, but I don’t know your name. Can I have it, Miss…?”

“It’s Sakura. Sakura Haruno,” the kunoichi answered gingerly.

“Sakura?” Hashirama echoed, his smile broadening into a grin as he glanced around them, at the canopy of unseasonable cherry blossoms. “Haha, how fitting! It’s nice to meet you, Sakura-san.” The man bowed over a bit enthusiastically, the young woman flustered by his cheery demeanor. “I’ll admit, it’s been lonely without another person around for so long. And to think, you’re training to become the next slug sage? Katsuyu-sama must have a lot of faith in you. And it isn’t unfounded, either!” He winked cheekily at her, Sakura feeling her stomach flop for other reasons.

Sakura drew her hands on her lap. “Yeah, I have a feeling you won’t think so soon enough,” she replied with a renewed wariness, Hashirama’s broad grin dropping.

A dark look crossed his features, the air growing immensely heavy. “Sakura-san… please be honest with me. Do you intend on using sage mode for something you shouldn’t? Something that could hurt people?” he demanded with a gravitas that could make mountains bow despite how level he modulated his voice, the uncharacteristic sunniness that followed his reputation better matched by the immense power and heaviness he shouldered.

Something in her snapped.

“I’m just the bitch who’s going to take a bucket to the village’s goddamned Will of Fire!” she roared back, springing to her feet and earning a minute widening of Hashirama’s eyes, until the frown returned.

The groaning of his own Wood Release responded to the intensity of Hashirama’s growing wrath; Sakura trembled despite herself, despite the ferocity blazing, her heart pounded in her throat while her fists balled. The tree he’d practically rode upon incrementally closed upon hers, Sakura reactively forming the seal for Reppō, hers holding firm despite how Hashirama’s resisted. It was a contest of wills, one she knew wouldn’t be realistically won when his ability monumentally dwarfed hers. The flowering branches twined around his of mighty, twisting oak.

“You’re going to bring harm to the village? I might not be Hokage any longer, and those I knew might be long gone… But Konohagakure and its inhabitants are my family. Anyone who tries to bring harm on them, be they friend, family, a lover, or my own flesh and blood— I’ll kill them before they bring harm to my home.”

Sakura wasn’t vainglorious enough to think a day’s worth of dumb luck could contest to decades of experience, but she wasn’t about to die from it, either. It was strangely poetic, despite how her heart climbed into her throat from the danger she was in. Sooner or later, what she was doing would clash with the village’s ironclad idealism. Of its blind devotion and compliance masked as cooperation and love.

The cavernous roar of his Wood Release gaining power was nearly deafening before she spoke, knowing the end could be near.

“The Uchiha are dead because of it!”

The sound ceased, deafeningly. The frightened beating wings of birds fleeing the area was the only sound that dared to shatter their attrition.

Hashirama met her outburst with shock, speechless as Sakura seized the moment in her own grip, refusing to let go.

“You probably heard it was just some power-hungry rogue, right? Well, you heard wrong! It was because the Uchiha were sick of being discriminated against for years and the Konoha Elders’ Council thought the only solution was to exterminate them!” Sakura’s breaths came hard, there no bravado nor twisted sense of pride of rubbing this in Hashirama’s face. The source of so much worship in the eyes of those who had deified him to the point of being inhuman. Funnily enough, it was a kind of foil to Madara’s own dehumanization.

The Senju’s mouth clamped shut as she revealed the truth, dashing the misfired tale against stone like the surf pounding the shore. An immense guilt crushed that growing anger; Hashirama swallowed thickly. Sakura couldn’t help but think he reminded her acutely of a person being attacked by their inner demons, even though she was reluctant to display any overt sympathy for him.

“You knew, didn’t you? In the village’s formative days, what was happening to them?” Sakura pursued, lips thinning as she refused to let up.

“I… did,” the brunet admitted after a long silence chilly with his own guilt. He looked like every instinct to flee personified. “I just… wanted everyone to be happy. Like how we intended it from the beginning. So no child would have to fight in a war, I—” He gulped down a breath. “I can’t bear to see anyone suffering. I wanted everyone to be family, to protect each other, to be more than their clans. But, I let everyone down in the end, didn’t I?”

His smile was so sad, so brittle, that Sakura felt a crack in her heart. Just how the hell did she shut off her compassion when the Senju looked so genuinely broken by it? That he’d failed to protect those who were technically part of his family?

Keeping the truth was crueler than trying to furnish it with lies, wasn’t it?

“Shodai-sama, I’m sorry, but… yes,” she replied after a long moment, biting the inner flesh of her lip. Remembering what Sasuke had told to her when he’d met the revived Hokage, she immediately amended, “But, it’s your brother’s fault, isn’t it? He hated them! He probably influenced you wrongly—”

“He didn’t,” Hashirama cut through with finality. Though still anguished by his own guilt, he appeared affronted before shaking his head. “People misunderstand what my brother was to me. He wasn’t leading me astray, or barely tolerating me like I was some… idiot.” The Senju sighed at that last, common assumption made of his character. “He was protecting me. Protecting me, and my heart. From when we were young, he protected me from our father who would berate us. Tobirama knew that people would take advantage of my kind heart, of how impossible it is for me to sometimes say no. How I can drown under the weight of a million problems I’d try to absolve on my own.

“From when we were boys, to my final years, that’s all he did for me. He protected me, and my dream. And made it his own.”

Through her studies, Sakura’s own mind came to her own conclusions. When a child was in a household with one or two abusive parents, the consequences could go in many directions, but a common one was how they could become a people-pleaser. Hashirama displayed all the hallmarks from it, from being painfully compassionate and sensitive to wanting to help anyone he could, among others. That made her wonder if Tobirama didn’t veer in the opposite direction, of shutting off his emotions except for anger and letting cold logic and reason dictate him. Still…

“I won’t pretend to understand what it’s like, Hashirama-sama, dealing with what you did. But, that doesn’t make what happened okay. The Uchiha are dead because of it,” Sakura said with pursed lips, even if it ate at her to see his aggrieved expression, his gaze falling to his lap.

“His sentiments didn’t come from nowhere,” Hashirama resumed with a dulled tone, reluctantly meeting Sakura. “In those days, our clans butchered each other. Uchiha killed our other two brothers. I don’t blame anyone but his killers, but… his hatred was understandable, even if it was contemptible. I know, I didn’t do enough to abate it, even if he seemed to be learning.” He smiled sadly again, a watery sheen to his eyes despite being a clone. “Then again, it’s as you said; I didn’t do enough, did I? I let everyone down in the end.”

She hated seeing people sad. More than that, she hated being the reason for that sadness. Sakura couldn’t help but reflect on how Naruto had been sad for awhile because of her, because of making him promise to find Sasuke. Though she learned later on that he hadn’t been trying so doggedly to find Sasuke just out of that promise he’d made, that didn’t mean she was entirely innocent, either.

“We’re doing something about it. Sasuke, I, and…” she glanced up at him purposefully, intently, “Madara.”

Hashirama jolted as though he’d been speared with a cattle prod. “Madara is alive? _How?_ I thought…”

“He survived,” Sakura answered simply, shrugging a shoulder. “I don’t know how, either, but he wants to help. I think he has every right to, even after everything he’s done…”

The Senju’s initial shock wore away into weariness, sighing softly. “Is it strange to take comfort in that? Even if he must hate me?”

Sakura wondered about that, too. During the war, Madara had rushed headlong towards his end with gleeful abandon. Though he’d been elated to fight Hashirama again, what might have otherwise arose hadn’t. Especially since Madara had been under the impression that the Uchiha had simply faded away like the Senju had, remembering what Sasuke had told her. Things were different now. If they met again, armed with this new knowledge, who knew what might occur between them?

“No, not really,” Sakura said honestly, propping a leg up. “We’ve mentioned the Senju, but not you yet, specifically. We’ve only just gotten to the point where he doesn’t see me as a dog of the Leaf.” And that was the truth. Which was more than she could say for others. One thing for certain, she was going to continue meeting him in genjutsu for a long while. The less opportunities he had to potentially scope out one of her new, provocative nature transformations eerily similar to Hashirama’s own, the better. “The village has a lot to answer for. I’m sorry if you dislike me for it, but it has to be done. I can’t sleep as long as there’s something I can do about it.”

Hashirama unfurled himself from his seated position, gazing through the gaps in the cherry blossom tree’s flowery, fragrant canopy. Sakura watched him, guilt for being the harbinger of such terrible news still eating at her heart. “I’m sorry it’s come to this, but… I don’t hate you for it. I suppose I’m a little glad you’re breaking the tradition of wanting to destroy the village.” Turning his head over his shoulder towards her, he smirked wryly, even if it was ultimately mirthless.

“I might not have some continent-destroying superpower, but I think we both know this will shatter the village in other ways. I’m not going into this thinking I’ll be hailed as a heroine. I’ll probably be as hated as the Uchiha themselves after, yet I think it’s okay. As long as people know the truth, that’s all I want in the end,” Sakura said resolutely, eyes sinking closed as she sighed. And that was the truth, too. Maybe she couldn’t save the village from hurt, but sometimes, a scab had to be ripped off in order to apply something else that would speed the healing along. Even if it would viciously hurt at first.

“You have a good heart, Sakura-san,” Hashirama conceded. “You’re doing the right thing, too. I hope my dear friend can heal and move on from his hatred.”

Though it was a silent agreement, that’s what it was. Hashirama was peaceable with her, and they’d come to an understanding.

“Thank you, Hashirama-sama,” she said gratefully, standing to bow. “Thing is, there’s training I need to do. I have to go now before Kaya loses her patience with me.”

“Kaya?” Hashirama echoed, apparently knowing her. “Good luck with that. But… if you want, I could help with your sage training, Sakura-san. It’s exciting knowing there’s another sage around.” His smile spanned genuinely, the boyish excitement from before returning to his eyes.

Sakura couldn’t help the half-smile that flitted to her lips. “I’d like that, Hashirama-sama. I’ll see you around.”

Hashirama watched as she waved at him, taking it as his moment to leave. Though he was reluctant to, in a mere moment did he bound away, surprising Sakura who had indicated the intention of leaving first. Before she could process it, he disappeared without a trace. But, as she had training to conduct, the kunoichi didn’t question it and buckled down to resume her work.

In his wake, the Senju’s tree was left to entwine inexorably with the boughs of Sakura’s own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, to begin, you're probably wondering--why a nasty centipede for a new summon for Saku? Personally, I think Ōmukade is fitting given the direction her development is going in exploring the mind versus just being a healer. Symbolically, it also fits the three-way deadlock. Mushi-ken, the precursor to rock, paper, scissors, is also used to represent the Sannin, and Neo-Sannin as a result. The Slug, in particular, was sometimes mistaken for a centipede from Chinese mythology capable of killing snakes by entering their heads and killing them, ala what Ōmukade does to Sakura. And there's the story behind that.
> 
> As for Hashirama, I already wrote an essay on how I portray him in the last chapter of WFS when he was first introduced. Still, if you're curious for more, I wrote a [meta that's located here](https://morinosenju.tumblr.com/post/623086883284615168/growing-up-in-the-warring-states-era-the-prime) if you want more tidbits.


	9. Chapter 9

Warning(s): T, none

* * *

Sakura didn’t know the name of it, only how it felt. Like a child fleeing their bedroom and pounding of the door of their parents’ following a crack of thunder, even though Sakura felt that what she’d just encountered felt so much more menacing in terms of power.

The Shodai Hokage’s reputation was one shrouded in speculation, and when she’d encountered him months before, he was unlike anything she’d encountered since. His power had been impressive, but it wasn’t the same as just moments ago. Being face to face even with a remnant, even with half the original’s ability, had meant Sakura being pitted against the most powerful shinobi in history with no reinforcements or means of escape if it had come to that.

Sakura’s nape still prickled anxiously as she navigated her way through the training atrium, led by the myriad, ultraviolet hues of leaves and flora that illuminated bridges and pathways amid cloaks of sweet, humid mist. She didn’t know what it was that caused her traverse through one of the entrances she hadn’t seen, a curtain of luminous orange blossoms cascading, feeling her heart leap joyously in her throat at what she managed to finally find.

The flowering lotus tree from the Mountains’ Graveyard had become one in the chamber it had found itself, the misty fall of a few sprays of water descending into many pools in the overgrown stone, a spacious place that seemed so liberated compared to the prison it had been housed in for so long. Sakura made her way through the glowing veins of roots throughout, to its landing where the tree itself was situated, flora around it illuminating it softly.

There was no hesitation on Sakura’s part when she saw the humanoid projecting from the bark, throwing her arms around the being’s neck that responded with an embrasure just as tight in return. She felt its wooden visage shift to nuzzle into her neck, tucking and remaining there, eyelids fluttered audibly shut. It was strange, being held like this. The self-examination of why she felt those feelings had been ignored, feeling pointless in the face of what she was working towards.

This… felt like a panacea. Even though it looked like the man she’d just slipped away from, had felt both fear and guilt in the face of, this wasn’t _him_. This was just her strange friend that brought her comfort in this bizarrely lonely time of her life.

Withdrawing just enough, the clone’s eyes opened and it relinquished her reluctantly, a fond flutter beating in her chest. Though it began pantomiming speech animatedly, she still felt like she was talking to someone. Outside of someone like Katsuyu, who did she really have? And she was busy, so…

“Can you believe the nerve of that guy?” Sakura fumed out the gate, beginning to pace and speak to it directly. “I get he was the Shodai Hokage, God of Shinobi, and all, but you’d think he’d understand! Konoha is far from innocent, and it has so much crap it’s hiding!” Though she started strong, she faltered. As if anticipating it, the clone looked sad towards her.

“But… that’s not entirely fair, is it?” Sakura deflated, sighing. “I wonder what would happen if he actually knew? Knew what happened to the people who were supposed to protect it, of all things…” The kunoichi’s mind drifted to Madara, of the Uchiha she never thought she’d be able to so much as speak civilly with. It felt like they had broken even, the rockiness of the start now steady and calm as a mirror. A foundation to begin. At the very least, Sakura suspected they wouldn’t fight anymore.

“…I hope he’s okay,” Sakura muttered to herself, all before realization dawned on what she was supposed to be doing. Sentiments aside, she still had the task at hand from Kaya!

“Shoot! Um, what was it she wanted again?” Suddenly remembering, while it might not normally have overwhelmed her, this was Sakura’s first real time utilizing her nature transformations. Let alone her newest arsenal she was still technically developing. So, four hundred bracelets and rings? Accessories for Kaya's eye stalks, basically.

 _Okay, that can’t be too hard, Haruno. Just… concentrate. Try Bloom Release since you already have that out of the way,_ Inner Sakura rallied in her mind, Sakura observing that it seemed the wisest.

Sitting on the dais where the stair descended, she situated herself on one of the tree roots and let her legs dangle from it, concentrating. Forming the hand seal for Reppō again, she inhaled and plunged her psyche into where her nature transformations concentrated in their colorful plumes, touching the jade cloud and letting its power mingle with her chakra and the natural energy channeling throughout her body.

Watching intently did Sakura deliberately grow a small bud that began twisting and twining, curving into a circlet with delicate cherry blossoms interspersed. It was a little larger than she’d expected, but when she finally closed its clasps, she exhaled in relief. Not only had it not taken much out of her, but even for a first try, she was proud of herself.

“Look! One down, one hundred and ninety-nine to go.” Sakura displayed her creation triumphantly, the clone laughing silently. She’d take that as a compliment, then.

Cycling through the Land of Demons’ hand seals like she had before, it was when she held it at Raku while still connected to the pink cloud of her Crystal Release, Sakura grinned excitedly when there was a sound of tinkling glass and before her did a formation of rosy crystals form like an ice sculpture. Exhaling shakily in her excitement, Sakura halted the crystals’ growth for a moment.

Forming Raku once more, Sakura held it as she deeply concentrated to form a bracelet this time, intensely focused on the crystal’s shape. Though it took a few minutes to achieve, she let go of her hitched breath and picked up the object, studying her handiwork. It was a little rough and the crystal itself a little cloudy, that she had done it at all was an achievement. There might have been hundreds more to complete, but even two down felt like an immense achievement to the kunoichi.

“Alright, Haruno, just keep going. I’ve _got_ this.”

* * *

Hours passed from when she began and until she finished. Aside from obvious bathroom breaks and mealtimes, Sakura kept at it until she was practically cross-eyed from concentrating so hard on her endeavors. Four hundred rings, circlets, and bracelets of varying sizes; two hundred made from her Crystal Release, another few hundred of her Bloom Release. Though Sakura had yet to experiment with Mud Release, she supposed it could be done at a later time.

When she arrived at the main atrium of the Temple of the Inner Path, the first thing Sakura did was flag Kaya down.

“Kaya-sensei!” Sakura beckoned cheerfully to the slug, the gastropod idly studying a scroll she was reading from the temple’s archives. Peering from her studies did she await Sakura’s results. Exhausted and sore from squatting and exerting herself so finitely for so long, the kunoichi eagerly sat down and unraveled the sealing scroll she’d utilized to make the transportation of her crafts easier.

In a brief puff of smoke upon revealing it did those hundreds of jewelry pieces tumble from their messily stacked towers Sakura had managed to build and spilled within Kaya’s space, the slug’s eyes slowly bulging as she mutely took in the gifts. Without even a moment of hesitance did she dive in with a squeal, stacking as many of the bands on her eye stalks as possible, giggling and laughing at the gifts. “Oh, Sakura-chan, they’re so beautiful! I’ll be the most beautiful slug in Shikkotsurin!”

Sakura stood up after pocketing the scroll, folding her arms with a satisfied expression. “You know, I doubted this training exercise, but the more I got into it, the more I realized how good it is for training. It took awhile to get the hang of, but it really helped me tap into two of my nature transformations. Developing jutsu from here should be a lot easier,” Sakura remarked as she watched Kaya jubilantly rummage through the jewelry, only for the slug to suddenly freeze and slowly raise her eye stalks stiff as poles from the sheer amount of jewelry ringing them.

“Er, training…?” Kaya echoed blankly, laughing loudly and forcefully. “Oh, yes, this was a training exercise to help you hone your new nature transformations, yes! And you passed, dear. With flying colors,” the slug recovered in a flustered rush, Sakura a little puzzled as to why, but didn’t question it. After all, hadn't Kaya told her it was for this purpose in the first place?

As Kaya continued to greedily root through her gifts with the zeal of a magpie, Sakura was briefly interrupted when she felt a familiar weight drop from above and on to her shoulder, smiling broadly when she realized who it was.

“Katsuyu-sama! What do you think?” Sakura enthused excitedly to the sage, hinging on the matron’s reaction.

Studying the jewelry closely, Katsuyu commented pleasantly, “They’re beautiful, Sakura-chan, however… I’m afraid that we must return you back to Konohagakure. It’s Sunday night, and you have to return before they suspect anything.”

At that, Sakura felt her spirits fall. “Time passed that quickly…?” she murmured dejectedly to herself, letting herself drink in the splendorous cascade of shimmery, lit leaves suspended from high boughs and the forest glowing beyond the temple's borders. The closest to a wonderland Sakura suspected she’d ever come. “You didn’t even get to personally teach me senjutsu, Katsuyu-sensei.”

Katsuyu warmly nudged the girl’s cheek with a closed eye. “But, you’re already learning senjutsu, Sakura-chan. You’re already self-regulating without me and infusing sage chakra into your jutsu. That’s wonderful!”

Sakura couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment bubble up. She had learned a lot, hadn’t she? Barely two days had passed and she was regulating natural energy as naturally as breathing, and had unlocked and was beginning the journey to mastering completely unique nature types in only a weekend.

“You’re right, Katsuyu-sama. But, I’ll be able to return whenever I’m free to train, right? I want to master sage mode,” Sakura said with a cocky smirk while clapping her fist into the opposite hand, a symbol of her determination.

Kaya laughed brightly. “Of course you can, dear! You have so many more of us slugs to meet, so much to explore—and, my word, you’ve only just begun.” A burst of excitement filled her in anticipation, Sakura already looking forward to that.

“See? You have much more ahead of you, Sakura-chan. Now, get packed and come to the portal room. We’ll get you home from there.”

* * *

Coming back felt… odd. Like she’d somehow acquired the power to breathe underwater and had spent her weekend in some fantastical underwater kingdom, this was returning to the surface where she had to walk instead of swim like a flying creature.

Returning to her bunker reminded her, though: as much as she was already missing Shikkotsurin, she had an abundance of things that still needed to be done. Even if she felt heavier, duller, even sluggish compared to what she’d come from, there was still some worth in this waking world.

It was with a quick shower and change from her sopping wet clothes into drier ones that Sakura felt refreshed, and quite ready to fall into her bunk bed, even though she wasn’t quite ready to turn in just yet. Shrugging on her flak jacket and the dog tags, it wasn’t long before she left Katsuyu’s clone behind and found her way into the dark, dank levels of the prison accessible with her levels of clearance.

It wasn’t like the darkened places in the sage region, but a bleak, empty place where even the shadows descended like rain, no matter how high one went. There was another, smaller freight elevator of the like that carried people to the upper floors compared to the tightly secured one that took others to where Madara was kept. Though much of her inclined towards seeing the Uchiha ancestor above her own team mate, before some god of sleep ran through the dusky skies did she have to see Sasuke before the spell of the forest seemingly wore off.

“Hey, you awake?” she greeted quietly upon coming to his floor, past the pair of Jōnin guarding its level. She already knew the answer to that question.

“Yeah. What is it, Sakura?”

Sakura watched as he arose from his trundle bed, moving like a great raven with furled wings in the darkness, with his heavy black mantle her heart constricted to see him in.

“I have another part of my plan. It does and doesn’t have to do with the Uchiha Massacre, but— I’m going to convince Shisō that if I can personally oversee your therapy, and if you can get a clean bill of health, that it would qualify as the terms of your release so you could get out of here for _good_.”

Sasuke’s dark grays stared at her skeptically through the darkness, lips thinning. “I’m not insane.” Not a yes, not a no—just this.

“No, you’re not,” Sakura agreed automatically. “You have trauma, probably more than others… But I think this is the only way to get you out of here, Sasuke. Whatever happens, I’m going to make sure that you’re not kept here in the village. Least of all, here.”

Sasuke grew quiet. For a prolonged moment, Sakura distantly wondered if he wouldn’t venomously wonder why she cared, why she _still_ cared. Because, he was supposed to be a lost cause, wasn’t he? One that only she and Naruto still really believed in.

“Do you think they’ll really do it? Just because your teacher is the Hokage doesn’t mean that my release is guaranteed. The Elders could decide against whatever she does,” Sasuke said cynically, gaze directed towards her, even he couldn’t see her.

“Once this is over with, they probably won’t be around. Trust me, Sasuke—what’s coming for them isn’t anything good.”

Even though he couldn’t see her, he doubtlessly knew the revolution brewing in her heart. Maybe in another life, Sakura wondered if this wouldn’t be enough to be a bridge to reconcile, that maybe he could fall in love with her like in all of her wildest fantasies. Except, life was never that simple. Even if they might cross that bridge one day, Sakura knew that he needed someone uncomplicated. Someone who he hadn’t hurt as much as he had his team mates and teacher. For now, all she wanted was for them to lift that divide that had torn them apart in the first place, and befriend each other in a time unburdened by it. Until that day came, they’d be partners working towards a common goal, and she couldn’t ask anything more of him.

“I found Madara’s journal in his hideout,” Sakura said, the Uchiha perking at its mention. “I’ll be going through it in detail with him… and you. And beyond that, with everything I’ve been learning, I’m going to be writing up a lot of interviews. Will you be ready for anything I have to ask, Sasuke-kun?”

“As long as this gets done, I’m willing to do whatever it takes. You and Naruto aren’t the only tenacious bastards in Team 7, Sakura.”

Sakura couldn’t help but smile. She was counting on that, more than anything.

* * *

It was maybe an hour after sunrise that Sakura’s phone began vibrating madly on the nightstand next to her bunk bed, blindly groping for the device with a single arm sticking out from the tangle of sheets she’d found herself embroiled in.

Not bothering to even see who the caller was, blearily did she hit the Receive key and answer, “Hello?”

“Sakura, hey, how long has it been since we last spoke? It’s feels like it’s been forever!” Ino’s loud, but cheery voice greeted her, Sakura finding a smile warming on her features despite herself. No matter what, Ino’s voice could rival even the sun in its sunniness. Gods knew she’d missed hearing her best friend’s voice.

“Yeah, it really has, hasn’t it?” Sakura replied with a smile of her own, the blonde’s jubilation completely infectious. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing.~ Naruto and I had a cute date the other night, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. Do you have anything planned today? I was wondering if you could drop by the clinic and if we could talk things over.”

“I don’t think I do. Besides, even if I did, this is technically part of the body of work we’re doing. We’re obligated to pick each others’ brains at some point.”

“Which, I could do completely literally. And you, to some extent. Anyway, let’s make it a date. 9 AM sound good to you?” Ino concluded cheerily, smile audible through the very phone.

“That sounds perfect. See you then, Ino-chan!”

* * *

Clad in something other than her typical uniform—that was, ¾ length beige pants, a maroon qipao top, and black sandals—Sakura felt human again, by the operative definition of it. Thankfully, Ino had been right in her assumption that going to the clinic to coalesce on their findings was a necessity, something they’d agreed to do every few weeks minimum.

Walking through Konoha’s streets to the hospital campus the clinic was situated on wasn’t a bad trek by any stretch of the word. Yet, Sakura couldn’t help but notice how profoundly _different_ it felt. And it even wasn’t because the village being rebuilt after the war, as that was a given. Maybe it was because of the less potent natural energies she drew and expelled from her person instinctively by then, Sakura was unable to help it when it was coming to her as naturally as breathing. Not unlike when she first began allotting her chakra to the Byakugō years ago.

It was less, it was more. The air felt heavier with pollutants she’d been used to before, the sky a little more hazy, the colors less saturated. Everything artificial that blockaded her in felt suffocating in some distant, noxious way. It didn’t smell as sweet, as alive.

But, it was bearable enough. Even if it made her yearn more for Shikkotsurin.

The journey through the change was buoyed by the familiar. She passed Teuchi and Ayame behind the noren dividers at Ichiraku preparing ramen, of excited young children gushing about some new card game, of people milling through an open air market saturated with sights and smells. It was a return to normalcy, of the dust settling after the war. Ordinary, and peaceful.

The campus of the Konoha Hospital loomed like great white clouds on the horizon, towering over the modest urban sprawl that led to it. Scaffolding ascended many sides of the many buildings there, rebuilding and renewing alike, but it was nonetheless familiar. A smaller, more modest building was busily undergoing construction, the four-story edifice gleaming with shiny new windows while the hollow clangor of internal construction disrupted the peaceful air. Skirting through the pristine, manicured lawns, Sakura made way for the Konoha Children’s Mental Health Clinic.

“There you are! Come on, I’ve got a lot to show you!” Ino greeted before Sakura was even a foot through the door. In their shared office, bookcases filled with case files and scrolls dominated the walls, filing cabinets occupying the space otherwise, barely enough room for the pair’s desks tucked into one of the corners that thankfully had a good view of the forest behind the hospital’s back lots.

Eagerly did the blonde corral Sakura towards her dusty, neglected desk the Yamanaka had elected to use for a random assortment of documents, manipulating her best friend to be seated in the swivel chair stationed at it.

“Hey there, Ino,” Sakura greeted belatedly with a laugh, amused by Ino’s enthusiasm. “So, what’s the big surprise? A duster to dust the place with?” Running her finger on the desk runner, a thin film of dust accrued, quirking a brow at her friend.

“Considering the fact that I’ve been your personal secretary in all this mess, yeah, it might be!” Ino rejoined with an exaggerated huff. Her voice was a little faraway, hunting for something amid her files.

Honestly, Sakura couldn’t be more grateful, though. While she had done the bulk of compiling, categorizing specific mental illnesses and devising the methodology and whatnot, Ino was the one who had been sewing the tapestry together. Between her work at Yamanaka Flowers and Leader of the Konoha Barrier Team, she was busy enough as it was. Hell, Sakura couldn’t help but marvel at her friend’s organizational prowess, taming the thousands of documents from a disorganized chaos to something completely categorized.

Before long, Ino dropped a thick tome held together by massive binder rings before Sakura, startling the kunoichi somewhat. But, by the smugness of the blonde’s smile, she knew it couldn’t be for anything bad.

“So, what do you think of this bad boy? You’re looking at the first edition of the Diagnostics and Statistics Manual, organized and put together by yours truly.~”

“Whoa,” Sakura breathed, gingerly touching it like it’d explode in her face. “You did all of this?”

Ino giggled and flicked Sakura’s head who swatted her friend’s hand away with a grin. “Well, _duh_. Where have you been these past five seconds, Dekorīn?”

Beginning to thumb through it, she came upon a table of contents that was comprehensively organized. Were it not the slapdash variations in font and page size littered throughout, it wouldn’t take much convincing for Sakura to believe that it could be ready for the presses in a month or two.

“How much is here, and how much more do we need?” Sakura asked suddenly.

Ino folded her arms thoughtfully, leaning against the lip of the desk. “Hm, well, we’ve gotten pretty far. There’s anxiety disorders, affective disorders, mood disorders, psychotic orders, personality disorders—there’s just a lot, Sakura. I’ve been amassing as much as I can, but there’s also a lot that are inconclusive or don’t have enough research to do much but slap them under the ‘unspecified’ label. For what it’s worth, this covers the large majority of the cases we’ve been getting. It’s been a big help to the medical staff who we do have on payroll so far, but it’s still in dire need of revisions—something that’s going to have to fall on you… in a week or so. There’s still some little details I’m ironing out, but once that’s done, we can begin going through the drafting and editing stages. Hell, I’m thinking of hiring some freelance editor to do it for us. Something who can hold their own with science-y stuff, but still.”

“Kinda funny how this all just began as some dream, right?” Ino glanced down at Sakura who smiled wryly at the blonde. “You probably get it, don’t you? During the war, or probably after it… there was such an emphasis on the next generation carrying the torch, keeping tradition alive. But, the more I think about it, the less I want to uphold it. Not because I think it all should be forgotten, but because I don’t want to continue that cycle of violence for anything.”

Ino’s own gaze became detached, lips falling into a slight frown. “Gods, Sakura… why do you have to bring up the most depressingly relevant things?” she said with a gusty sigh, then sobering. “I loved my dad. I _still_ do, nothing will change that. But—what if the best way to honor him is to continue, I dunno, Ino-Shika-Chō in another way? What if our great-grandkids are one day just, like, ‘Wow, this fighting stuff is literally bullshit!’ and maybe just… let’s say, decide to go into a career together? And whatever Sarutobi is around at the time just has to face facts that these kids don’t want to be ninja. Maybe Sarutobi-san grins and bears it and gives them the earrings once they graduate plain, old civilian school, maybe.” Ino pursed her lips, laughing a little. “I’m a seventeen year old kunoichi of the Yamanaka clan and I feel obsolete already. Can you believe it, Sakura-chan?”

“Well, sure. I think you have laugh lines and crow’s feet already,” Sakura replied puckishly, Ino poised to smack her head before she stopped, the brief levity lifting. “I get what you mean. On one hand, I never had to be worried by any clan’s expectation because I don’t have one. I chose all this. On the other… you can only be called Tsunade Jr. so many times before it becomes unbearable.”

Ino grew uncharacteristically quiet all of a sudden, folding her arms as Sakura practically felt the Yamanaka retreat into herself. Sakura’s first instinct was to reach out and take her by the shoulder, and ask her what was wrong. Except, it felt completely needless. Useless, even.

“I envied you _so much_ when we were kids,” Ino admitted at last, swallowing thickly as her eyes began to shine. “See, that’s the thing about all this, right? You _chose_ to become a kunoichi. You _chose_ to apprentice yourself under Lady Fifth. No one forced you. You decided you didn’t want to be under my shadow anymore, but sometimes I wonder if you realize how jealous I was. Because you could grow to be whatever the hell you wanted and your parents would love you no matter what. But, because I’m part of a clan, it’s not like it’s a big deal. But if I left life as a kunoichi? Gods, I’d probably be disowned, or something.” Even if it wasn’t a concern anymore, but Ino didn’t bother voicing that much. It felt too soon; as blasphemous as desecration. 

“I’m glad you’re telling me this,” Sakura conceded honestly, folding her hands on her lap. “Growing up, I really did think you were all that. Sasuke was a bullshit reason to embark on a rivalry, but we both know that, right?”

Ino’s eyes took on a watery, vulnerable sheen as she trained them intensely on Sakura, lower lip worrying. “Yeah,” she replied in a small voice.

Sakura slumped lazily in her chair, gaze lost among the many filing cabinets. It wasn’t to be indecorous, but the weight of years of unsaid things seemed to cascade between them turbulently. Especially here and now when there was nothing but an uncertain future they had to decide what they had to do with.

“I never really considered it like that,” Sakura said honestly. “Really, I didn’t. I think, it really wasn’t until the Chūnin Exams that I realized that being part of a clan isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sure, maybe it seemed like that because I and Tenten were the only civilians in our group, but I always thought it was such a pampered life. I wish I’d known then what I do now.”

“Yeah, you really have no idea, Dekorīn…” Ino sighed wistfully. “In some ways, it’s kinda nice. If you have an identity crisis, you still have your clan name. If you fall into the pigeon-hole other members of your clan do, of fitting the mold, you’ll still make people proud. It’s almost a fail-safe.” Except, when it wasn’t. “Even if it makes it so _fucking_ hard to be your own person. Sure, it’s nice to have a clan name where it counts, but sometimes I feel like I can never be just Ino. I have to be Ino _Yamanaka_ , proud member of Ino-Shika-Chō, member of the Barrier Team like my relatives, living up to the Yamanaka name with our Hiden. It makes me wonder who the hell _Ino_ even is.” The blonde’s delicate features pulled into a scowl.

“I guess we have that in common, don’t we?” Ino didn’t say anything, knowing what she meant. “We can’t stand being in someone else’s shade. I thought I was losing myself by being in your shadow, even though you helped me out of my shell. And again, with being Lady Tsunade’s disciple, and she helped me become myself as much as you did. What about you?”

Ino laughed, the sound a little sad. “I’m still trying to figure that out, really. Maybe it’s why I threw myself at the chance to help out here. Because it’s not a Yamanaka thing; it’s a Sakura _and_ Ino thing.”

Hearing that made her happy. Though she couldn’t absolve the heavy insecurities and identity issues Ino still struggled with, it was a testament to their friendship that they could confess to something so heavy with the faith that the other girl would hear and understand. Even if Sakura had such a monumental secret that she felt filthy to harbor with its weight on her shoulders. A secret Ino wouldn’t know until it was too late and the dramatic trials began. Trials that would feasibly be months to years away at the rate she was going. Never mind her sage training she largely kept to herself.

Sakura was living a triple life, and here Ino was opening her heart and soul to her, bearing years of insecurities she’d never considered the Yamanaka harboring.

“You know I’m always here if you need anything, right? Especially if it’s of the whole finding yourself variety,” she said with a genuine smile towards the younger woman, the blonde smirking despite the lingering shine in her gaze.

“Well, guess what, Dekorīn!” Ino piped up, recovered quickly that made Sakura happy to see. “I’m going to get that book edited in a week, and your sorry ass will have to do _alllll_ the revisions and junk. Then, you’ll owe me a week’s worth of spa treatments, and then—only then—I won’t hold it against you. Deal?”

This. This was the Ino she knew and loved, who was like a dear sister to her. One of the people she knew deserved to be happy, more than anything. And if Sakura could help her on the road there, then by all means.

Even if it did little to mitigate the enormous secrets she kept hidden like a locket against her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just as a little bit of an announcement, but MMC officially has a prequel I'm writing alongside this! It's called [Joy, Shining, Blooming](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25250587) and it's slowburn Nejisaku that takes place in the 2.5-3 year interlude between the end of the Part 1 manga and before Shippuden. It's going to have a lot of development during this period and flesh out some of her relationships with (such as those she has with the rest of the Rookie 9/Konoha 11, especially the female cast), Tsunade & Shizune, Kurenai, and much, much more. 
> 
> Additionally, because of the fact that it's canon (for predictive, canon reasons) to MMC, some things from it will find there way in here, such as how I edited chapter 1 to better reflect Sakura's relationship with Kurenai during this time, for example.
> 
> All in all, I hope anyone who checks it out and continues on the wild ride MMC will continue to develop into!


	10. Chapter 10

Warning(s): T, none

* * *

Sakura gaped like a fish as she sprawled haphazardly on her back. Remarkably dry unlike before, the kunoichi was greeted by the amused, inverted visage of Sanzang suspended over her. Offering a hand, he hauled her to her feet while she wrung out some of her hair and clothing, grateful that it would dry quickly, at least.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that,” Sakura admitted with a sheepish smile towards the monk, the man utilizing a minor water release jutsu to coalesce the water that had saturated the varnished cherry floors and deposit it back within the pool’s basin.

“It’s only your second go. Once you become a little more experienced, you’ll be able to simply reverse summon yourself here,” the monk said as he glanced at his shoulder and gently poked at his clasp that his kasaya draped from. “Katsuyu-shifu, Sakura is here.” A look of gentle amusement met her as Katsuyu sluggishly relinquished her comfortable sleeping place from amid the folds of his robe, blinking owlishly at Sakura who bit her lip to hold back a laugh.

Admittedly, while it was a little strange to see Katsuyu perched on someone else’s shoulder that wasn’t herself or Tsunade, it wasn’t an unwelcome sight. When the sage had promised to show Sakura more of her world and of herself, it was undoubtedly part of it. Knowing people neither she nor Tsunade were aware even existed. It was a gratifying thing to be let in on.

“Oh, Sakura-chan! Normally, I’d take you to the temple, but… I wanted Sanzang-kun to help this time.” With a smile, Sanzang motioned to follow and from the portal room did they depart.

As they were at the Western Temple as opposed to the East, the skyline was quite different, but no less beautiful. Considering it was daytime, Sakura could make out the distinct shape of a shoreline brimming with forestry, what she suspected to be the Land of Forests. As Sanzang led her beneath the temple’s low eaves and the boardwalk that lined its lower tiers, it was before several jutting docks they stood before. The undulating ocean was a brilliant turquoise, Sakura unable to make out the illuminated life beneath the waves she had when she’d first arrived. The sky was an equally brilliant azure, with massive clouds sculling lazily across. To their left a little, the massive borders of Shikkotsurin rose into the clouds, its brilliant fluorescence muted in the power of daytime.

“Come, we’re almost to today’s training grounds. Take off your sandals, please,” Sanzang indicated with a nod, slipping his reed thongs off before proceeding towards one of the docks and casually stepping on to the waves and beginning to stride away. Hurriedly did Sakura remove her own shinobi sandals before catching up, finding the water beneath her toes to be pleasantly cool compared to the growing heat of the day.

“Can I ask what we’re doing today, Sanzang-san?” Sakura asked once the monk took pause, turning to face her once they were sufficiently far from the temple complex, like a derelict island alone at sea.

“Katsuyu-shifu and I are going to teach you the fundamentals of learning sage mode, Sakura-xuesheng.”

…They thought she was ready? A bolt of excitement raced Sakura’s spine at the realization, praying she didn’t look too excited or eager.

“Sakura-chan, in every being capable of using chakra, they possess something known as the Chakra Pathway System. It’s how chakra circulates your body that you can eventually use for jutsu. However, the application of it and its relationship with ninjutsu is relevant to the Outer Path, and of course you are quite well-versed in it by now. What you are going to learn is how to develop the Coiled Path. It’s not a chakra system you’re born with, but one you make. It allows you to gradually build enough experience until you can access firstly Incomplete Sage Mode, to Complete,” Katsuyu began, to which Sakura nodded raptly. She’d always been a sponge for information, after all.

“And to help you develop it, you’re going to learn how to walk on air,” Sanzang continued after her, loosely folding his arms together.

Sakura was a little taken aback by that. “Hang on—you mean, really walk on air? Is that even possible?”

Without further prompting, smiling enigmatically did Sanzang lift his foot as though mounting a stair, planted firmly on air as the other joined it, a little smug as he stood on his airy platform like it was nothing, shadow cast on the placid waves like it was the most ordinary thing. “Sakura-xuesheng, we’re walking on water. And can’t we also vertically ascend cliffs and stand beneath tree branches? Things that shouldn’t even be possible, but you do it. If you can do those, you can levitate on air as easily as you walk on water.”

She couldn’t help but feel heartened by Sanzang’s words, a pang of nostalgia filling her breast. After being largely overlooked by Kakashi, she hadn’t felt this encouraged since Tsunade had taken her under the Sannin’s wing. Because of it, Sakura had truly blossomed. Here and now, she felt that same potential of possibility to do the impossible, knowing she already was.

“Sakura-chan, when you first started self-regulating the first night you came here you unlocked your Root Chakra, and you unlocked the very first rung of the Coiled Path. And because of it, I know you’re now able to channel sage chakra into your jutsu, like when you first began training with your new nature transformations. This is why you’ll be able to do this,” Katsuyu encouraged softly, Sakura feeling emboldened.

Inhaling deeply, Sakura’s eyes sank shut while she absorbed natural energy into her person to knead into sage chakra. As they were still so close to Shikkotsurin, even with its barriers erected were the concentrations of natural energy far more potent than elsewhere. Feeling as though she’d built enough up, it was a little tricky to alternate between her own chakra and sage chakra, first stabilizing it in her feet on the water so she wouldn’t make some rookie mistake. Opening her eyes, with daring did she emulate what Sanzang had done and she accumulated it within her soles. Taking the first step, she wasn’t surprised that it missed, determined as she channeled a little more into her feet, grinning when her foot planted firmly on a bed of warm air.

With a dizzying sense of triumph did she repeat the motion to stand firm on thin air, heart pounding from the elation. “Whoa, I did it! I feel like—” Yet, as her concentration was thrown for a moment in her giddiness, Sakura yelped when her control abruptly faltered and she plunged into the warm waves, sputtering.

Sanzang couldn’t help but burst out laughing at her expense, the kunoichi blowing a raspberry at him as she hauled herself back to the water’s surface. Again. She’d keep at it until she collapsed from exhaustion, if need be.

A good few hours would pass until Katsuyu decided that Sakura had done enough. By then, she’d managed to fully master this air walking practice, instinctive enough that all the impish jostling from Sanzang wasn’t enough to disrupt her concentration or stability.

Admittedly, Sakura couldn’t help but feel excited. Though she was technically at one of the lowest rungs in terms of her sage training, she hadn’t felt this sense of surety In her ability to succeed since her days at the Academy and that very first time when she was picking up medical ninjutsu. The difference being that she couldn’t see a future where she’d be lagging behind anyone. Even with Naruto and Sasuke so far ahead of her after being blessed by Hagoromo, she didn’t feel that crushing realization of toppling to the bottom after she’d finally caught up with them during the war.

“I hope you like sushi. It’s a bit of a staple when you’re surrounded by water.”

Perched on one of the docks with her bare feet dangling in the water, Sakura craned over her shoulder to see Sanzang return with rather delicious-looking morsels, not even realizing how hungry she’d gotten from concentrating sage chakra in such a specific way. The monk sat a few feet from her with the food situated on a wooden serving platter, setting it between them to dine on at their leisure.

“Thanks, Sanzang-senpai,” Sakura said with a smile, the corner of his lips quirking. “So, with this Coiled Path stuff, do you have any idea how long it might take before I get to sage mode?”

“The Root Chakra is the gate, Sakura-chan, while the next three concern Incomplete Sage Mode. Normally, it would take some time, but considering how finite your chakra control is, I think it might not be long at all until you navigate through the next few nodes,” Katsuyu supplied, having been watching the sea while perched on the kunoichi’s shoulder, a familiar weight she never minded.

“I’m up to the fourth node, myself,” Sanzang said through nibbling his bit of sushi. “However, I’m only a senjutsu user. It’s not quite the same as being taught under the wing of a sage teacher like Katsuyu-sifu. It’s required to be a senjutsu user to be part of the Inner Path, but only those personally selected by the Great Sages can learn sage mode. And they are very few, very rare.”

A sprig of thought blossomed in her mind, niggling her tongue in its demand to be voiced. “Hashirama-sama, our Shodai Hokage, was a slug sage. Do you know how far he got?” she asked suddenly, glancing at the monk.

However, surprise registered on her face when Sanzang’s visage visibly darkened, enough that he paused mid-chew and swallowed, hands falling to his lap. Sakura’s nape bristled, even though she couldn’t fathom how what she’d said would’ve offended him.

“Sakura-xuesheng, I’m sorry if this offends you, but your Lord First is regarded… very differently in the Inner Path. In fact, we rarely mention him at all, except as a fable for the worst sin a sage can commit,” he replied slowly, expression strained but largely apologetic. A wheeling flock of seagulls cut through the tension with their baying cries, but she was too rapt with morbid curiosity. When he realized her silence was encouragement to continue, he did with a soft sigh.

“It wasn’t always this way. My predecessor, Xuanzang, was one of his teachers as I am for you. He learned senjutsu quickly, attaining sage mode barely a year after coming, something never heard of before. And his Wood Release was like nothing we’d seen before or since. Until now, that is.” He spared Sakura a brief smile. “Yet, this all changed shortly after your village was founded. While it was within his power to, before the First Shinobi World War did he commit the greatest transgression a sage can commit: in going after the Bijū, he also sought to capture the Yonbi. To us, he is Son Gokū, the Great Sage Equaling Heaven, King of the Sage Monkeys of Kakazan. The oldest of the Great Sages, and yet—he sought to capture Lord Son Gokū as if he were a common beast of burden to leash to his will.”

A long silence only the sea and distant seagulls broke spanned; Sanzang allowed her the quiet necessary to process it. Part of her wasn’t so surprised, though. Although the village had a cultish worship of the Shodai Hokage and the Will of Fire that had become its unrelenting philosophy, she’d read some documents from that time period that painted a different picture than what the village sanctified so idyllically.

“…I’m sorry. I know, maybe it’s useless to apologize, but I’m sorry for what our village did. I’m part of it, so maybe—”

“Sakura-xuesheng, you mean well, I know. But you are not your predecessor. Nor do you possess the blood of that _demon_. The past is not your burden to bear,” he placated gently, Sakura mollified by his words even if she still felt troubled.

“Hang on, ‘blood of the demon’?” she queried abruptly, puzzled by it.

“The descendants of Kaguya, the demoness from the stars. The Senju, Uzumaki, Hyūga, Uchiha, Kaguya… they are among those who proliferated her will, who shunted and demonized the Inner Path with the Outer Path and its philosophy. They are the reason the world has been driven into war for over a thousand years, why the sage arts have been forgotten by all but a handful. You met her during the last war, didn’t you?”

“I punched one of her horns off and prevented her escape while my friends could seal her, actually,” Sakura quipped with a wry smirk. Sanzang shared in it.

“It is a long story, but before Hagoromo and his Ninshū spread chakra through the world, before Indra sought to create the Outer Path, sages existed. Humans and animals alike who were Onmyōjī and In’yōjī, even if their count was far fewer.”

“Wait, how were people using senjutsu before there was any chakra?”

“Hm, what you know is a lie propagated by the Outer Path. All living beings have always had spiritual energy, their life force, and natural energies have always existed. It’s not so different from what the accursed God Tree did; take in both in order to mold Chakra Fruit. Except, it was far less… destructive.” Sanzang rolled his shoulders once, then shifting uneasily. “I’m sorry, boring you with a history lesson like this. I’ll put it simply, Sakura-xuesheng: I have no doubt that you’ll be far different than your predecessor. Honestly, I’m very honored to be one of your teachers, and I have great faith in your progress to come.”

“Thanks, Sanzang-sensei. I’ll do my best, promise.” Even if a great feeling of disquiet rooted at what Sanzang had just told her, her thoughts wandered to the derelict Senju who still lived in Shikkotsurin.

* * *

Sakura regretted that she wasn’t able to stay longer, but the reality of her situation simply saw her with less time to dedicate solely to Shikkotsurin than she wished she had. And Katsuyu was certainly more than happy to accommodate, knowing that her training as a sage had no deadline unlike the pressure she faced back home to get the Konoha Children’s Mental Health Clinic on its feet as well as see the case on the Uchiha Massacre go to trial. And after her heart-to-heart with Ino not long ago, Sakura wanted to dedicate more personal time to the former instead of constantly working out of her bunker.

Today was different. After spending the morning doing what she was quickly coming to love with Sanzang and Katsuyu, the real work was beginning.

By some stroke of luck, Sakura had managed to pull some strings with Ibiki as an intermediary in order to strike a deal that Tsunade believed might be of benefit: that Sasuke might be able to start down the road to freedom if he could receive proper therapy and prove that he was mentally sound enough to be considered for it, what with his actions during the war both sowing seeds of doubt and proving that there was an opportunity for redemption.

Tsunade, at the very least, had faith in him from the very beginning. It was thanks to her that Sasuke had never been branded a missing-nin, after all.

Returning to the hospital campus, it was in one of the newly constructed therapy rooms Sakura found herself in, impressed that the designs that had once been blueprints and cork boards festooned with random images had come together was impressive to say the least, but also the least of her concern. Settling within the therapist’s seat, she felt a little outlandish in her T&I dogtags and chūnin uniform, but it had become her standard after the war. Or, maybe it was because being in such a contemporary, whitewashed space felt odd coming from where she had.

Though she could look outside at the forests bordering the hospital’s back lots, it wasn’t quite the same.

“Sakura.”

Sakura glanced up at the address, finding Sai himself standing in the doorway. Since the end of the war, he’d been hard at work in the Anbu, and Shizune told her that their work had seen them stretched thin. Hell, that he was there at all was something of a rarity given how often he’d been called abroad. All in all, he was still a member of Team 7 and her friend.

“Oh, Sai. Thank you for coming. Did you, um—”

“He’s here, it’ll just be another second. I hope you’ve been well, Sakura,” he said with a polite smile, but it was more sincere than it had been in the past. Even so, his high level of formality still felt somewhat alienating to her.

“Yeah, I have, thanks.” The parting smile was kind, but she couldn’t help but feel a knot of apprehension. Unlike the past several times they’d spoken, they couldn’t make mention of the investigation lest some opportunist blow their cover. Here and now, they needed a baldfaced kind of honesty of another sort.

Sasuke was brought in in the most surreal way possible; an Anbu agent, mask and all, produced a scroll from within their vest and unsealed it, a puff of smoke revealing the Uchiha himself. Unorthodox as it was, she supposed it was understandable given how parading him through the streets would likely amass some violent mob of people who knew who he was. It reminded her of the Chūnin Exams where completing the trials in the Forest of Death would reveal shinobi sealed in the Heaven and Earth Scrolls to declare their success.

Once Sasuke was in the room, Sakura didn’t need her Third Eye Gate to know that said Anbu agents were posted outside the door, likely listening in on what they’d be saying. Ever more of a reason not to mention their more… illicit activities. In its stead was the fact that she’d have to pry into deeply personal subjects, and it would be more than just what she knew during their time on the team.

“Let’s just… get this over with,” Sasuke said with a sigh as he sat across from Sakura, still relegated to his blindfold and heavy mantle that inhibited his movements and sight.

Wordlessly did Sakura rise from her seat and begin untying the blindfold, releasing the fūin restrictions and meeting Sasuke’s visible surprise at the action as it fell away, squinting in the bright sunlight pouring through the massive pair of windows within the room. Adjusting to the brightness, another look of bewilderment met hers when the mantle came next, setting them both over a stool nearest to the door. A finger raised to her lips, the meaning was clear: not to mention he was free from his bondage.

It was something Ibiki had taught her during a slow day a month or so ago, likely aware of how she’d want the ability to do this and knowing she was responsible enough not to do something stupid with the knowledge.

Sakura skirted around their seats and opened the windows before resuming. “Sorry, it just gets really stuffy in here. They’re not totally finished with the ventilation system yet,” she explained to her friend. “Why don’t we begin?”

When he gazed at her, she swore she could see a glimpse of the Rinnegan, her stomach knotting at the very thought. After all, the last time she’d seen it was when…

“You probably want to start with the night of the downfall, right?” he asked drolly, even though they both exchanged a knowing, disgusted look at the notion of having to euphemize it as such. But, it was the hand they had to play for now. As accomplices in the crime of wanting justice. Thankfully, no one really knew the truth, as the story they played with was that Sasuke had defected to become powerful enough to kill his brother. The latter half of the war was to be pinned on the Curse of Hatred.

 _Even if the Curse of Hatred is total horseshit,_ Sakura thought ruefully to herself.

“Yeah, that would be a good place to start. But, don’t feel pressured to get everything out at once. Just what you feel comfortable with telling me.” She smiled encouragingly, but it didn’t quite touch the corners of her eyes.

And so, Sasuke recounted it in full. Telling of how strangely his brother had been acting, of the forehead pokes, how distant his beloved older brother had become. How everything went dark as he stumbled into the compound, streets littered with corpses and rivers of blood that ran like black, spilled ink beneath the moonlight.

“If I’m honest, I’m sometimes not sure what parts of it were real and what were the Tsukiyomi. It just… never ended. It was always the same thing, over and over again. Coming into the kitchen with my brother standing over our parents, boasting about killing them. I ask him why, he tells me he wanted to test his power, and that I need to embrace hatred so I can be strong enough to kill him one day.”

With a bowed head was Sasuke unable to relax, and as his gaze shifted wrathfully at his missing arm did the Uchiha’s lips curl into a fierce snarl. “It’s the same thing, the same fucking thing!” he railed, slamming his fist into the plush chair’s armrest. “My brother kills everyone in my goddamn clan, and I’m the criminal for wanting to avenge him?! It’s fucked up!” He shot up, unable to remain seated. “This village, that I’m supposed to protect? It abandoned me! It abandoned Naruto, too! But, what, I’m supposed to kiss its ass anyways? Be grateful that they allowed the _savage Uchiha_ to live when he deserved to be butchered like the rest?!”

From outside, Sakura was certain she could hear the Anbu agents unsheathe their tantō menacingly, and she glared at the door in silent demand for them not to. As if her psychic order had been heard, in the spell of silence did they soundlessly sheathe them again.

“But, you managed to kill your brother in the end, didn’t you? How do you feel now, knowing this? Having done that?”

Sasuke stood with his sole hand balled into a fist, knuckles white from the force of it. His jaw set, only to sink into the chair again resignedly. Like it was better than drowning in his futile grief, bellowing to an indifferent universe. He sighed miserably, wretchedness weighing his person, dragging it as deeply as it would go.

“Empty. I feel so fucking _empty_ ,” he admitted, voice like the sole knell of a funeral bell.

“And that’s why you embraced the Curse of Hatred, right?” Sasuke glanced up at her, considering. “Because hatred and anger are better than knowing the revenge you wanted didn’t end up bringing you peace, in the end.”

Sakura wouldn’t dare and boast about it, but where Naruto had been blinded by his want to bring Sasuke back, she’d seen the darkness early. When they had faced the Sound Four in the Forest of Death and his Curse Mark had activated for the first time, she’d seen it. The darkness of someone betrayed, who had all their love and happiness quashed by the person they loved most. To be left alone and unwanted by the village that preached daily of seeing each and every villager as a family member, only to grow up knowing it was a lie. She’d been naive then, but Sakura hadn’t been blind. Maybe her declarations of love had been selfish, but more than that, they’d been a vow. A vow to bring him back into the light, where he was loved and cherished by the family he could make. Because it was all she'd ever wanted of him, even if that love was different now.

“Do you remember when I left, for that first time?” Sakura nodded numbly. “Your words… weren’t lost on me. I knew, maybe I could stay. Pieces of me were coming back. Pieces that could’ve moved on, and found something in Team 7. But—I couldn’t. Not when _that man’s_ face loomed over their graves.”

“Shinobi are told to erase our humanity and serve our villages exactly, to carry out our duties and not let emotion get in the way of our missions. In a way, you did that when you left the village. Your clan members became your new village, and you sealed away your heart enough to do what you thought had to be done. In order to avenge them, you were ready to die with that truth sealed in your heart. It was why you were willing to kill us, because of what we could’ve awoken in you, right?”

The silence after Sakura spoke was long, and deafening. It was heavy and fathomless as the deepest oceans, but an understanding was touched more than before. After idealizing him for so long, Sakura knew she was finally knowing the real Sasuke. Even if her girlish infatuation had died in the Forest of Death, even if she was seeing glimpses of who he really was, and even if her love had matured into something real and altruistic, it took these investigations and this talk for her to reach the epoch of it.

“You and Naruto were always so annoying. You’re like sunlight shining in my eyes. But… you’re also warm, like spring sunshine, Sakura. After building my hatred for years like he told me to, you both were the closest I came to losing it. And, I hated you both for it. You were obsessed with saving me,” he said with a sidelong look out the window, Sakura’s gaze trailing behind.

“You know why, right? If we hadn’t done something, they would’ve branded you a missing-nin and killed you. We didn’t want that. Except…” Sakura took pause, sighing, “when I decided that the only thing I could do to save you, was kill you. Because I thought you were so far gone, that there really was nothing I could do. Naruto, though—he never lost hope. He’s stronger than me, in that respect.”

The truth hung in the air, of what she said in the war that Kakashi reinforced, but she knew by then that Sasuke didn’t—and probably couldn’t—love her in the way she wanted. That much was evident after the genjutsu he’d subjected her to, of the Chidori impaled through her heart so viscerally she could still feel that cacophonous chatter of lightning incinerate her insides. Maybe it was brutal, but experience was a cruel teacher. And maybe she couldn’t wholly forgive him for it, either, but she understood him better. Even if things couldn’t go back to the way they were, at least a brighter future could be in sight.

Friendship might not be a bad start, at least.

“You’re strong, too, Sakura,” Sasuke countered, gaze meeting hers, grateful that his Rinnegan was largely covered. “You’re not the person you were, and that’s how it’s supposed to be. …I’m just sorry I took so long to see it, let alone doubt you.”

“You’re not bad, yourself,” Sakura quipped cheekily back, eliciting a brief smirk from the Uchiha.

The soft sound of knuckles rapping at the door drew their attention, signaling that their time was up. Without another word did Sakura swiftly help Sasuke back into his mantle and blindfold, resealing the constraints, hearing him grunt softly at their invocation. Though she sympathetically winced, when the door opened did one of the Anbu agents enter and seal Sasuke back into the scroll, comical as it looked, even though she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of indignation at such dehumanizing treatment.

As Sakura watched them exit the room, a new person waited across the hall, leaning against the wall with their arms crossed.

“I’m sorry, can I help you?” she inquired the new arrival dubiously.

The man wore a skullcap Leaf forehead protector with long tails, a skin-tight black t-shirt, gloves, a coat girdled around his waist, and sported several scars including an x-shaped scar on his chin. At the question, he smiled crookedly, roguishly, before inclining his head partially.

“You must be Sakura Haruno, the up-and-coming director of this clinic and Tsunade Jr. herself.” At her sustained, bemused silence, he continued. “I’m Kamae, the new leader of Konoha’s peacekeeping forces. We’re part of Anbu, in case you’re wondering why I’m here.”

Sakura’s initial suspicions relaxed despite his shady appearance. That much made sense, at least. “Oh, Kamae-san. It’s nice to meet you,” she greeted with a formalized bow on her part. “You’re here to bring Sasuke back to his cell?”

“More or less, yes. Even though my men are more than capable of doing it on their own, there’s red tape to worry about, all that.” Glancing at her collar where her dog tags dangled, his black eyes seemed to hone on them in particular interest. “You’re part of T&I? I never took Lady Fifth’s disciple to have an interest in that kinda thing.”

Sakura forced a smile, feeling like she was under a microscope. “It’s more of a formality, really. In order to expand our body of knowledge in psychology, we need more specialized primary sources. And right now, the largest amount of documentation can be found in psychological warfare. Trust me, I’m really not cut out for it,” she conceded modestly, even though it was something of a lie. After all, if she wasn’t, Ibiki would never have taken her on at all.

“Understandable.” Kamae nodded laconically, feigning thoughtfulness. “Hey, since we’re both in this newfangled business together, what with our own start-ups, why don’t I take you out for some tea? It’s not a date. Just think of it as a friendly business meeting between newfound acquaintances.” 

Though his words and demeanor were glib and a little off-putting, she couldn’t help but mentally berate herself. _Come on, Haruno, you’re thinking too deeply into this. Sure, he’s Anbu, but he doesn’t even look that much older!_ Inner Sakura rallied her, wondering if she was right. Maybe getting to know the other parts of Konoha’s dark underbelly wouldn’t hurt. She got along fine with Captain Yamato and Sai, especially.

Locking up the clinic didn’t take long, Kamae willing to wait. His own associates had long since left, still clad in their indistinguishable masks and uniforms while Kamae looked like any Leaf-nin, like her. Instead of seeking a formal tea house, he instead found a street vendor and haggled for a slightly cheaper price, Sakura unable to help but be a little amused. Maybe this guy wasn’t so bad after all.

“So, that Sasuke guy—he used to be on your team, right?” Kamae broached once they’d found a bench along the Naka River to be seated on, the dusty walkways flanking the channel relatively devoid of passersby. He sipped from his tea loudly, reminding Sakura of Naruto, in a way.

“He was. He has a lot of recovering to do,” Sakura said with an ambivalent shrug, unwilling to say more. “Sorry, he’s kind of a touchy subject. Can we talk about something else?”

Kamae smiled agreeably at that. “I really can’t blame you. Guy like that up and betrays the village, joins the enemy, causes loads of harm, and we’re supposed to treat him like a piece of fine china? He might’ve had a change of heart, but I doubt it was for any profound reason. You’re getting into psychology, right? If so, you probably riddled out a long time ago that if the endgame is threatened enough, of course the bad guys come running to put a stop to it. Because if the world gets fucked over, there won’t be anyone around to screw.”

“It’s something like that,” Sakura answered enigmatically, sipping her tea.

Kamae shrugged at her vagueness, smirking to himself. “I get it, doc. Doctor-patient confidentiality, and you’re a woman of your word. After Lady Fifth’s heart. Y’know, once she retires, one of our own boys is going to be ascending the seat. It’s pretty exciting, isn’t it? Lady Fifth definitely kept us from falling apart, but in this new day and age, we need Anbu stock to deal with everything you can’t on the battlefield. You understand what I mean?”

“I think I do, a little. Kakashi-sensei was my teacher, but he never really spoke much of Anbu.”

Kamae’s aura seemed to become visibly weighted, the chummy candor slipping from his person like a discarded coat. “We’re entering a new era, and we need to put our village first more than ever. Missing-nin are increasing across the world like termites, and we can’t let Konoha fall victim to those scum. The Shinobi Alliance looks pretty on paper, but we can’t really trust those guys. The person you fight with on the battlefield doesn’t stay your comrade when they go home at night, especially if they’re not from the same village. I’d do anything to protect this village and its people. Even if I’d have to cut down my own friend, family, or father… I’d do it. Whatever the cost.”

Sakura felt a feeling of dread well up in her gut at his words, at the darkness underscoring each one. For people of the village to vehemently protect it wasn’t unusual, and to idealize it right or wrong had been what Sakura had lived with for much of her life, but this felt malevolent. It contrasted to Naruto’s own blind patriotism that felt so sunny and optimistic. This was like a long shadow cast by that very sun.

“My friend, Naruto, would probably think the same thing—mostly. He loves this place and its people more than anything. He went through a lot as a kid, but believes in it with his whole soul,” Sakura said after a pregnant pause, even if that demeanor was alienating her from Naruto in the first place.

“Yeah? I’ll consider myself flattered. That kid wants to be Hokage, still, doesn’t he?” Sakura nodded in confirmation. “Good, good. We need more visible patriots like him, and patriotic realists like Hatake-san. It’s why we’re going to get rid of all the doubters and cheats who’d want to ruin the village so he has a nice place to be the Hokage of at the end of the day.”

 _Count me down as one of the doubters then,_ Sakura thought dryly to herself, though she didn’t let it show on her features.

“I’m really sorry, Kamae-san, but it’s getting a bit late and I have a lot of work to do back at the Intelligence Division. It’s really been fun, though, and thank you for taking me out for tea.” Though she began to rise, Kamae gestured for her to stop.

“Haruno-san, would you be against being escorted back? My mother raised me to be a gentleman and I’d hate to have you walk back alone—even if you could clock any creep to the moon and back.” His crooked smile was more pleasant that time, Sakura’s hackles lowering barely.

“Um… alright. Thank you, Kamae-san. I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For anyone wondering, Kamae's design is largely based on [Kishi's initial concept](https://naruto.fandom.com/wiki/Itachi_Uchiha#Creation_and_Conception) for Itachi back in the day. Of course, he'll have a pretty big place in the story sometime soon, but it likely won't be obvious as to what, even if this chapter did foreshadow it a bit.
> 
> The bit on the Coiled Path is actually based on the concept of the Kundalini and its connections to Tantra and the chakra system we know of in real life. My thinking was, why is it senjutsu users like Jūgo seem to function so differently from sages like Naruto, or why Incomplete Sage Mode looks so different from Complete Sage Mode? Hence, the concept of the Coiled Path and its necessity as a means for advancement of sages through their respective sage modes was born. 
> 
> Additionally, although I should've put this earlier on in the story, [the world map I use](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f4/f3/04/f4f3044629f48215de63304e3fc5c764.jpg) for this story is here! The Northeastern Isles are in the top right corner with Shikkotsurin encompassed by it (the surface part, at least). 
> 
> Lastly, due to the fact that each of the stories of WOYY have three arcs, I've elected to make graphics for each other. All of them have graphics for Arc I so far, for anyone curious.


	11. Chapter 11

Warning(s): T, none

* * *

“Haruno!”

“One second, Morino-sensei!”

The raging squalls buffeting her inner sanctum’s outer mind caused Sakura to struggle with closing the door while Ibiki looked on with a severe expression, until with a single grunt did she managed to wrest it shut with a shuddering rattle that struggled against its lock. She leaned against it with a loud exhale, as breathing wasn’t really necessary. They were within her mind, after all.

Ibiki curiously rapped his knuckles against psychic walls, then pounded with a closed fist. “Your defenses have gotten better. Especially since you’re learning to guard your mind without relying on Inner Sakura all the time. But, our work isn’t over. I’m going to be driving harder than I have before, and I want to ensure this place is sealed tight.”

Sakura trotted to his side, falling in stride of the taller man. They walked in moderately companionable silence through a long corridor, the foggy reaches making for low visibility despite it being part of its point. Forming a hand seal of the Tiger, a thick wall with scrawling script and the face of a massive Oni met them with its fierce glare. “Good. These will trigger on their own, but this needs to be tested, too,” Ibiki commented, placing his palm flat on the barrier as he began channeling enormous resistance against it. Sakura swallowed thickly as she countered it, concentrating harder before it broke.

“Dammit…”

“No, not at all. That was a few rungs shy of my hardest application of force. You’re improving, Haruno-kōhai. Now you just need to get better.”

Nodding resignedly, but feeling warm under her teacher’s praise, there was a lull as the barrier dissolved away and their walk continued. More than that, this would be the most private place in the entire village for them to discuss something so sensitive.

“Morino-sensei, do you know anything about this… Kamae?” Sakura broached while Ibiki knocked on the sanctum’s walls at intervals, pausing thoughtfully.

“I’ve only heard of his name. Why?”

Sakura’s lips pursed. “He came to collect Sasuke-kun after our therapy session the other day. It was over a week ago, but… I’m worried about what it could mean for the village,” she confided to the older man, resuming their stride.

“This is my first time hearing his name, but I’m guessing it has something to do with Anbu.” Sakura nodded in confirmation of his suspicion. “Even though this new age of the Shinobi Alliance is yielding into an unprecedented era of peace—compared to past times, at least—it isn’t perfect. Outside of the Five Great Shinobi Nations, turmoil is still a problem in smaller ones, and this isn’t even taking into account the staggering number of shinobi who defected many thought were dead or missing after the war. And that's not even counting the tens of thousands who died during it.” He paused at a small hole in the mental sanctum, at the wind whistling fiercely through. Sakura dashed to it in order to seal it properly. “With Lady Fifth set to relinquish her mantle to Hatake-san soon, there’s going to be a changing of the guard, so to speak. It comes with every new Hokage.”

“Kamae mentioned that. From what I understand, he mans a new, bigger arm of Anbu that’s probably going to eclipse it. Especially since Anbu has been under budget due to there being a lack of need for them,” Sakura said pensively. “I guess it’s a re-branding since they got a lot of flak in the inner circles of village politics.”

As they walked on a bit more in silence, Sakura felt a heaviness grow on her shoulders. “It’s just… some of the things he said to me. He sounded really patriotic, but I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or not. He earnestly displayed an ‘us vs. them’ mentality, and I don’t think it was just for show. I’m worried that he and those he’s working with are going to become like some extreme of that. That they’re going to try and elevate Konoha’s position back to the top in the worst ways possible, peace or no.”

“I think you’re absolutely right, Haruno,” Ibiki said after she concluded, teal eyes glancing at him. “Even if the Shinobi Alliance exists now, you remember pretty well how you were told that the Chünin Exams were a placeholder for war, right? And that was barely five years ago. The war taxed a lot of countries to their limit and elevated others. Even if the Five get along fine, there’s still multitudes of smaller ones who will likely feel oppressed. They’ll look to the larger nations as oppressors, and likely respond in kind. And with Kakashi helming the village as Hokage…”

“He was in Anbu before. Even though Kakashi-sensei has changed, he’s still really pragmatic and loyal to the village, maybe to a fault. Kamae mentioned that with pride, too, that he was ‘one of them.’ I remember Kurenai-sensei mentioning that he called us ‘soldiers’ in the beginning. It’s probably different now, but he still holds the shinobi way, especially as a Leaf-nin, in really high regard, doesn’t he?”

Ibiki glanced down at the young woman, lips thinned. “Don’t forget, Haruno-san, I’m just as patriotic and loyal to the village. However,” he glanced at her sternly, “my brand of patriotism recognizes injustice, when wrongdoing weakens my home that I would die protecting; because I love it more than anything, that means I’ll do everything in my power to make sure this precious place is safe. I chose this dark path so I could see the darkness that threatens us, and protect the Will of Fire from it. That’s my nindō.”

Sakura couldn’t help but be a little awed of Ibiki, then and there, and more than she had been. His severity lessened and the man patted her head in an uncharacteristic gesture of platonic affection, reminding the young woman of when Tsunade did the same months before. Ibiki’s hand returned to his side a moment later.

“I’m grateful you were willing to listen and support me in what I’m doing. Really, I don’t know where I’d be if I didn’t have both you and Yamanaka-san by my side.”

Ibiki’s countenance grew grim again. “The Uchiha were part of the village like everyone else. What Danzō did, hurting people who are part of this family, is unforgivable, no matter the reason. It’s why what we’re doing is so important, and why we’re willing to put our reputations on the line to make sure the truth is known.”

Sometimes, even Sakura forgot that. That beneath shallow hatred and persecution of the Uchiha, let alone for those who had a genuine reason after Madara, Obito, and even Sasuke to an extent so visibly caused enormous amounts of havoc, there were those who would see what happened to them as shameful and subhuman. Which, as far as Sakura was concerned, suited men like Danzō perfectly.

“Morino-sensei, in line with that, there’s something outrageous I have to ask you permission to do. Especially since Kamae’s presence makes me think that we’ll have to work harder and faster with this.” His gaze trained on her, hard with expectancy. “I want to free Madara from his bondage and allow him to be conscious again.”

At that, Ibiki frowned openly. “And how do you know that Madara won’t take advantage of it and try to escape?”

Sakura’s gaze dropped down, seeming to stare aloofly into the ether. “I’m not sure. All I do know is that meeting him in a genjutsu realm will only work for so long. I have to show him how genuine I am in the most direct way possible. I want to interview him in my bunker,” she said, meeting his penetrating stare, hands curling into resolved fists. “He needs to be treated like a human, because the information I need to know isn’t with the idea of Madara, of what defines power to the very world. I have to get through to the real Madara Uchiha, the man. And I think this is the only way I can really do it, Morino-sensei.”

“You wouldn’t be asking if you didn’t really know the implications of what you’re doing, right? Of what you could be unleashing by freeing that man.” He studied her intensely, looking for the depths of her resolve. As far as Sakura was concerned, it was endless.

He probably saw it in her, too.

“You already have this thought through. Do what has to be done, Haruno-san.”

* * *

Slanted rays of light running through the various slats of the freight elevator illuminated Sakura’s determined, severe face, but hid the way her heart pounded its way up her throat.

She’d been under the effects of the Psycho Mind Transmission technique for the past few hours, reaching a new record for her ability to resist mental infiltration. Especially without utilizing Inner Sakura, something she was getting better at doing. This was part of the point of Ibiki’s classes on psychological warfare, after all.

The moment she’d been freed of its effects, like a shot did a single affirmative nod from the man propel her like a gale from the depths of the T&I department and to the subterranean dungeons where Madara was kept in his prison. Through that long, cold corridor did she come to his holding chamber, looking through the one-way portal into its blank, concrete space before entering the chamber proper. The hiss of the airtight seal sounded behind her.

Gazing up at him felt different that time. Remembering what Ibiki told her about how the body was the barrier to the mind, what was the barrier to the body? Especially in the now, with what she was about to do?

Removing a small scroll from her back pouch did Sakura unseal it, the brief puff of smoke dispelling to reveal one of the Uchiha’s standard tunics she’d found in the Mountains’ Graveyard. Draping it over her arm did she replace the scroll in her pouch again, working through the series of hand seals Ibiki had taught her before their session had ended.

With a great mechanical whine did the mechanism suspending the binding frame slowly lower from its place several feet above her head to the ground, Madara’s eyes cracking exhaustively open as a slow, weary breath rasped dryly from his lungs.

“…What are you—” He was cut off when the tubes draining his chakra disconnected with a faint hiss, the last of it sluicing up the tubes and disappearing; Madara gasped in pain as it did. This wasn’t the same boastful man from months ago, or even the provocative menace from weeks ago. He looked too exhausted to even keep his eyes open, but they widened in alarm when the bindings leashing him to the crucifix by his wrists, torso, and ankles suddenly released in unison and left him unprepared to catch himself, likely too sluggish in mind and body to.

Sakura caught him in her arms as the full weight of the Uchiha slumped against her person, the kunoichi more than strong enough to handle the brunt of his weight. His jaw at rest against her shoulder, he weakly turned some to try and see what she was doing. Wordlessly, Sakura dexterously worked one arm into the long tunic, beneath his neglected, straw-like strands of hair that hung in limp, ashy tendrils, and then the other arm into the other sleeve. Thankfully, with a zipper to clasp it shut, he looked a little better in some clothing.

“I’ll ask again: what are you doing?” he murmured softly as Sakura maneuvered him so one arm draped over her shoulder and he could lean against her, heavily lidded black eye gazing at her; his eyes looked rheumy and unfocused. A guilty barb struck her heart at leaving him like this for so long.

“It’s not a prison break, before you ask,” Sakura explained with a determined expression as she pasted a few paper tags against the viewing chamber’s window, and the door, sealing the room shut and triggering an illusion of the Uchiha still being suspended. “We need to talk, face to face. No more genjutsu worlds.”

Madara smiled weakly, cynically. “I’m barely conscious as it is. What makes you think I’ll be able to be properly interrogated?” he goaded with a sarcastic look; or, as well as he could manage in his state.

“Stop talking. You’re so dehydrated that you’ll probably damage your vocal chords if you keep straining them like this.”

Madara only huffed quietly in response, but it was difficult to tell what note it took. At the point, Sakura doubted it even mattered. Instead, she performed the Reverse Summoning jutsu, the pair disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

The Uchiha coughed softly when it passed and they were in the hall of her bunker, Katsuyu greeting them with unreadable eyes while the man met hers with an equally curious but benign stare in turn.

“You… I remember you. It’s been decades, hasn’t it, Katsuyu-sama? Since you were at Hashirama’s side,” Madara asked innocuously enough, but Sakura shot him a warning glare after telling him not to keep speaking.

“Yes, Madara-sama. However, please listen carefully to Sakura-sama instead,” Katsuyu answered diplomatically, to which the Uchiha nodded obliquely. He knew there was no need to press further; not yet, at least.

Sakura wordlessly took Madara into her bedroom and to one of the three bunk beds, two which were untouched but in serviceable condition. She carefully deposited the man on the bed, helping him articulate his limbs where he sagged into the sheets with a sigh. While he made himself comfortable, she darted into her industrial galley kitchen to fill a carafe of water and fetched a glass, filling it to immediately bring to the man.

It took him barely a few seconds as he drained it swiftly with a sigh, head plopping back against the pillow. “I’ll ask you again: why are you helping me? Helping the Uchiha, sure, but me? It makes no sense.”

Sakura had since pulled up a stool to perch on by his bedside, meeting those coal-black eyes with an deep study from her own. “Because I’m a human being. You said it yourself, remember? I’m a terrible kunoichi, and I couldn’t agree more. Doing this? It’s what humans do, even if you don’t see yourself as one.”

Madara fell silent, dry lips pursed. His head turned to the side, no longer meeting her eyes. He needed to rest, as it was.

“Sleep here for as long as you need to. The water’s here,” she nodded towards the pitcher on the nightstand by his bunk, “so you shouldn’t have to worry about getting thirsty. When you’ve rested, you can take a shower and anything else. I’ll make you food, and from there, we’ll begin the interview once you’re in better shape. Right now, though, you need to sleep, got it?”

There was no argument on Madara’s behalf as the man rolled on to his side and took no other moment to fall asleep, Sakura rising from the stool and flicking off the light. It was… odd. Seeing someone who had loomed larger and life curled up the way he did, fast asleep, was disarmingly humanizing. Contrasted to how Madara didn’t even view himself as human in spite of this, it was almost a mystery when he looked so ordinary, like anyone else exhausted would. More than that, the fact that he could let his guard down around her enough to do something so vulnerable as sleep made her feel a pang in her breast.

Maybe it was this fact that, yet again, the notion of being a kunoichi sat as uneasily on her chest as the hitae-ate did atop her head.

Sakura worked diligently through the next few hours on going over revisions in the DSM Ino had composed for her, going through edits and sticking post-it notes and whole pages of notes between its heavy pages, eyes occasionally straying to the outline of questions she’d prepared explicitly for the impending interview. Questions written in shorthand for the sake of convenience, reading a few lines here and there between her editing and revising. They sounded so dry in her head, but knew it’d be different once Madara was ready.

Admittedly, Sakura just wanted this whole ordeal to be over. It wasn’t that she felt inconvenienced, or some other selfish reason, but each day spent in her bunker while the world remained oblivious felt like a day too long. Like she wasn’t doing enough, or moving fast enough. Dragging her feet between establishing the clinic, sage training, and the investigations.

More than that, compared to Sasuke and Naruto who had been blessed by Hagoromo with fathomless power after coming back from the dead, she’d caught up with them only to fall flat of their progress once again. Even if they had no say in the matter.

The sound of the dormitory’s door opening didn’t leave enough time for Sakura to notice it much before Madara was already in the wash room and freshening up. Glancing at the clock, she was a little surprised to see that three hours had passed already, which made sense considering. The recovery time for Madara was less with Hashirama’s cells, even if the complete drain on his chakra made it lag considerably.

Taking it as a signal, Sakura disappeared into the galley kitchen to prepare them some food.

It would be another hour until she finished with preparing a simple meal. Though she had no clue what Madara’s preferences were, it didn’t matter. He was hinging on generosity that left him a beggar and no place to be choosy. That, and she doubted that handmade ramen would put anyone off.

Arranging a simple pair of place settings at the conference table, having to manfully move stacks and piles of documents in its organized chaos, skewed between case files and her work for the clinic, the stacks were somewhat contained enough to make for a comfortable space for them to eat. Hell, even Sakura hadn’t realized how hungry she really was. Not since her weekend in Shikkotsurin, at least.

When she finished pouring tea for them both, she was greeted by the sight of Madara dressed in his Uchiha tunic, hair still slightly sodden but clean, staring at Sakura intensely. His brow puckered in bemusement, the kunoichi just as confused.

“Please tell me you can’t or won’t eat ramen. I spent a whole hour on this!” she exclaimed in annoyance, hand on a jutted hip.

“When did you acquire three kekkei genkai?” That took Sakura off guard, rearing back a little.

 _Hang on, I thought he’d be too weak to utilize his sensory technique!_ she thought in a slight panic, eyes widened in shock. _But… wait. Even if he can ‘see’ my kekkei tōta, it’s not like he’d be able to know what it is unless I demonstrated it, right? Especially in Konoha. And once he’s back in cell, there’s no way he’d be able to tell even if I did practice it!_

“Not kekkei genkai. Kekkei tōta,” Sakura softly corrected, hands curling around the backing of the chair she was poised to sit in. “However, given the fact that I’ve been a pretty damn good hostess, and since you’re here to our mutual benefit, you don’t get to ask any more questions. Now, sit down before your ramen gets cold.”

Maybe she was a bit too flippant when it came to brushing off the truth behind her newfound powers, but it wasn’t without good reason; as she’d mulled over it before, she questioned the wisdom in revealing she was training in the same place Hashirama had and was developing a kekkei tōta that was similar to Wood Release. Sakura didn’t know just to what degree Hashirama affected Madara, let alone in the presence of anyone gaining abilities similar to his eternal rival’s.

_Nevermind the fact that he’d probably be eager to off me since I’m not anywhere close to Hashirama’s level. Thinking it’s an insult for a mere civilian to be emulating the great **Shodai Hokage**._

Sakura snorted into her tea at that line of thought, to which Madara raised his head and eyed her speculatively. He’d already begun eating, and she could hardly blame him for not waiting to say ‘ _Itadakimasu_ ’.

“Sorry. Tea went down the wrong pipe,” Sakura lied, but whether the Uchiha believed her or not didn’t seem to matter. They continued eating on in silence.

Eventually, Madara wound up having a few more bowls, which Sakura couldn’t blame him. She ate like a bird on a good day, and his chakra had been drained for months, driving him to the precipice but not quite over it.

“…That was good,” Madara commented in the lull of silence after they’d finished. Sakura gathered their spent dishes, chopsticks, and mugs that would be unceremoniously dumped in the sink in lieu of the conversation that would follow. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” _Does it make you feel a little more human, maybe?_ “Why don’t you sit on that love seat against the wall? It’s a little more comfortable than these rickety old chairs.” Without a word did Madara comply, the Uchiha curling his legs into his side and looking noticeably comfortable, maybe even a little drowsy in a pleasant sense of it. Flustered by her own observation, Sakura rushed into the kitchen to deposit the silverware and plates before Madara could notice.

Upon returning, she found a rather old, musty recliner sitting in one of the corners that she pulled up, but not so close as to potentially provoke the man from said closeness. He was someone with pride, and tremendous reserve. That much Sakura could absolutely respect.

Glancing down at the outline, Sakura frowned at the list that had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Madara watched her with a neutral expression on his face, head canted curiously.

“You know, I had an entire idea of how I wanted to go about this. I’m good at that. Being organized, planning ahead… But it has a way of falling apart when faced _with_ it, when you’re really staring at it.” She turned the outline over to its blank face with a sigh. “I think you know what I’m looking for, right? When it fell apart for the Uchiha in the village back then.”

Madara’s lips quirked at the corner, and Sakura swore she imagined it. “It might be useless, ultimately. Sasuke-kun was told the truth of our collective past by _that man_ , wasn’t he? I think it’d be much the same. Oversimplified, and far from the truth that needed to be told,” Madara said with a laconic look, arms draped over his lap. “Besides, I have a feeling even _you_ don’t know how much you need to know. It would be better to know too much and whittle down what you need than to be left with too little when it’s too late to go back and get more.”

He had a point, Sakura conceded to herself. “As an aspiring therapist, you usually start from someone’s childhood. It tends to be a pretty accurate foundation to search for the advent for someone’s mental illness. In this case, it’s looking for the truth in the past we need to worry about.”

Madara’s gaze drifted, settling a little more comfortably in his seat. “So, what you need is a biography,” he began while looking genuinely thoughtful. “I’m sure that, before you became aware of her, as descendants of Kaguya, the Senju and Uchiha forgot why they were fighting at all by the time of my brothers’ birth and I, simply understanding that we were divided and that with our power came those that aligned with us, and against us. The opportunists, smaller clans who sided with one and opposed the other, those whom sought survival and weighed who would best benefit them… My rivalry with Hashirama made far more sense in this context.

“I was the eldest of five brothers, born to Tajima Uchiha and Hisako Hyüga. That combination might sound unusual to you, but as the Uzumaki sided with the Senju, so too did the two greatest dōjutsu clans combine together as allies, and more. My parents’ marriage was the seal to that covenant, and from it, my four brothers also yielded from it: Masamori, the second eldest, and Tōji and Kenta, twins, and Izuna, the youngest. We lived as well as we could in those days, in the Uchiha’s capital of Uchinada. Where we and our allies formed a seat of power that rivaled the Senju in Sennan, and the Fire Daimyō in Saikyō who overlooked us like a god.”

Admittedly, this part that Madara was telling her wasn’t much of a history. For how little they were told of history in Madara’s time, how power skewed betwixt Uchinada, Sennan, and Saikyō was more of a chessboard. Even if the history books were greatly polarized towards the Senju and barely bothered to furnish the truth behind the Uchiha, let alone what Madara was telling himself. Having set up a recorder hidden in her flak jacket, this way she’d have everything—even that which she might’ve missed in shorthand.

“What about you? If the world was so divided, how did you and Hashirama-sama manage to become such close friends?”

Madara’s lips pursed briefly. “Our lands were naturally divided at the Naka River,” he answered simply. “But our capitals were located further inland. We met so much because a mile is little to a shinobi, even if that shinobi is only a boy.

That much was understandable. Nevermind how much stronger she assumed shinobi were in those days… “Tell me about your family. What were your parents like? Your relationship with them?” It was one of the biggest staples when it came to mental health, Sakura was coming to find. Because who influenced a child more than their parents, or the adults in their lives?

Surprisingly enough, Madara took the question in stride and didn’t seem the least bit fazed by it.

“My father, Tajima, was distant and firm, but not a horrible man. He taught my brothers and I everything we knew about warfare, of the Uchiha way. He saw to it that we became worthy of being his successors, so to speak. I never resented him. Merely… didn’t come to know him as well as I might have otherwise.” He took pause, fiddling with his fingers thoughtfully. “My mother meant… the world to me. She taught us that there was no shame in being gentle, in where you might spare a life instead of taking it. She encouraged us in the arts, to be more than just shinobi, but people. Above all, my mother made it stark when I realized how far I had fallen, how much of my humanity I had lost. Then, my brothers…”

Madara went on about how his younger brother, Masamori, was considered the poet of the bunch. With a Sharingan in one eye and Byakugan in the other, he was the crown jewel, slated to be the next clan leader and the glue that held the Uchiha and Hyūga forever as allies, something long forgotten by Sakura’s time. It might not have existed at all, what with how history never remembered it the way Madara was recalling it with such vivid detail even Hashirama hadn’t furnished during that time in the war. He went into exacting detail about his brothers, his family; the particulars of clan life through the years, to even the circumstances behind his parents’ and brothers’ deaths. Going on through the sorties with the Senju and their allies, and beyond.

“We learned, later, that it was Lady Rokujō Shimura, Danzo’s mother, that had commissioned Kakuzu himself to murder both my father and the leader of the Hyūga at the time, Lord Akira Hyūga whom was also my uncle. It was a decade apart, true, but centered around a catastrophic war waged in Uzushio that had an attrition for ten years, during which time I became the Uchiha clan leader after my father perished. Those were… difficult times, before the village was founded.”

Even then, it didn’t grow any easier once it had been, especially once the novelty wore off. Still, it stood in such enormous contrast to the simplistic tale Hashirama had told Sasuke, which was likely due to the borrowed time they were on before having to appear on the battlefield proper. This was practically a fairy tale, of clans being more likened to noble houses while the Daimyō existed as a king. It was much different compared to the idea of clans living in isolated woodlands and engaged in guerrilla warfare depending on who hired whom, perpetuating a life-long conflict.

Regardless, Sakura wrote down as much as possible, knowing she’d have to transcribe what Madara said to her later.

“So, knowing this, the Shimura were the Senju’s allies, right? That’s why they went after your family?” Sakura questioned after finishing a particularly long paragraph. “I’m guessing that the… mutual loss of family fueled a lot of negative sentiments between both sides.”

Madara nodded, gaze falling. “It did. Until it culminated to the loss of my brother at its climax, that saw the Uchiha gradually losing their faith in me, especially after Izuna—my youngest brother—died. A rumor grew that I had stolen my brother’s eyes for the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan, even though he’d given them freely when he was near death. I alone transplanted the eyes, so of course it propagated quickly. Especially after that final battle where we finally made peace, I never knew what would come. Surely… you must have some idea of the details, don’t you? And how it simply went downhill from there.”

Sakura knew. Sasuke had told her a few weeks ago in exact detail what Hashirama had recalled to him at the time after he’d been summoned along with the other Five. But even so, it wasn’t everything.

“Basically, you joined the village with the intention of fulfilling your childhood dream that transferred from just Izuna, to your whole clan, right? And with the war doing nothing but killing off both sides exponentially… I guess you were desperate. Because it did make sense, but there was still so much bitterness between both sides,” Sakura surmised, glancing at Madara who nodded once in approval of her summation of events.

“Even if you look at it as neutrally as possible, both sides had killed the other in droves. The smaller clans were able to make amends, because the conflict had never been as personal between them. The Aburame, who sided with us, didn’t find it difficult to become comrades with the Senju-allied Yamanaka, for example. And because Hashirama was more powerful than myself, it consequentially sent a message: that we Uchiha were lesser. And when we became bitter because of it, because they looked down on us like we were feral dogs, we were pushed under their heels as a consequence. And Hashirama did little to stop it when Tobirama manipulated nearly all of his decision-making.”

 _E_ _xcept, did he?_ Sakura wanted to question, but bit her tongue. Her mind wandered to what Hashirama had told her, of how the man had always been Hashirama’s protector, not the manipulator to the puppet on strings. Especially given his past… But, as Ibiki had told her once, between two extremes could one find the truth. And she certainly didn’t want to question him when they had progressed amazingly far on thresholds of trust. If she rattled him now, who knew if he’d be willing to open up to her like this again?

“So, with the village being biased towards the Senju, when did you begin to notice that things were really falling apart? When this place you helped build began excluding you and the Uchiha?” Even though the question would undoubtedly invite bias, it was obviously the point.

“Very early on, but the standout moment was when I eavesdropped on Hashirama and his brother speaking over the Hokage candidacy. Hashirama wanted to forward my position, while Tobirama insisted on a vote. All very well, except when you remember that those sitting the council at the time were all biased towards the Senju,” Madara continued with an irritable huff through his dark forelock. “My clan was already beginning to openly distrust me and my decisions, which wouldn’t have boded well even if the council would’ve been neutral. As far as my clan were concerned, I had lured them into the trap and it was my fault for cornering us.”

“And that’s when the turning point had really begun to show itself?”

Madara nodded grimly. “It was all downhill from there. Of course, I tried to keep on even after Hashirama had been unequivocally appointed as Hokage. I became his left hand that enforced Konoha’s place in the world, especially among the other villages who were just as embittered from their own conflicts, turning their eyes abroad like never before. But, it wasn’t enough. In the village’s eyes, I was a demon that needed to be sealed away before I became too much. To my clan, I was beyond all hope of redemption. And with these facts in mind, and a plan revealed by the Uchiha Stone Tablet, I was left with no choice but to leave the village and set out on a path in order to save the clan that I loved more than life itself.”

Without him needing to say so, Sakura knew Madara didn’t have to say more. With his journal uncannily corroborating several monumental events in shinobi history in the past hundred years before his death, it wouldn’t be entirely necessary to even reference it, except where hidden knowledge of events surrounding the clan’s downfall came into play. A haunting note of finality seemed to sound when Sakura wrote the last character and closed her notebook, setting down her pen.

“I wanted to thank you, Madara-sama, for your part in this. Really, your insight has been invaluable,” she began formally, diplomatically. “However… returning you to where you were is besides the point. I spoke with Morino-sensei, and we agreed that confining you again would be pointless and inhumane. While your existence will still be kept a secret from the world, you’ll be allowed to live in guarded parole on the Uchiha compound, which, as you know, has been largely abandoned. You’ll be under surveillance and your powers will be sealed with juinjutsu, but I think that’s a better arrangement, right?”

Her face didn’t show some merciless conviction. Madara could read how blatantly uncertain she looked, even bordering on sympathetic if he’d ever possess such a level of boldness against the woman who was helping him more than she should care to. His smirk was cynical, humorless.

“Of course they would do that… The Konoha Military Police Force and the milder prison is located on its grounds, isn’t it? The perfect place to operate some gate-keeping operation from and have no one be the wiser,” he simpered with wolfish amusement, chuckling softly. “Although… I suppose you deserve some gratitude, don’t you, Haruno-san? For having faith in the humanity I and the rest of the world knows doesn’t exist any longer.” And yet, he didn’t speak with condescension. If anything, his tone sounded listless, resigned. Even if it was more honest on her than she imagined it had been on anyone in a long time. Something other than the sneer of a godly powerful warlord.

“Thank you again for your cooperation, Madara-sama. Someone will be here shortly to take you to the compound,” she informed him politely, as if the veil of vulnerability and honesty had been shattered.

“I’ll be ready,” Madara stated simply, silence reigning powerfully between them despite how it’d likely only be a few more minutes. “…Haruno-san?”

She glanced at him, a heavy exchange crossing like a river between their gazes. “Yes?”

“I’ll pray for your success with your endeavors.”

A small, shadow of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“Thank you, Madara-sama.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, in case you haven't noticed, but a lot of Madara's background will heavily incorporate the story of Warrior, Father, Sage, if with some embellishments and omissions (as in, Sakura's involvement since she's not in a WSE-era AU for this fic). While I'll definitely be mindful of what gets crossed over, it's nice to tie in all my fics together, no lie.


	12. Chapter 12

Warning(s): T, none

* * *

A week had passed since her fateful interview with Madara, and Sakura couldn’t stop peddling through the notes when time allowed it. And that time was already constrained as it was. Between her work for the clinic and her investigations and other tutoring under Ibiki and Santa, Sakura couldn’t help but feel this ineffable sensation of having hit a wall. Or, if not a wall, that she was climbing up a near vertical sand dune that she was making progress on very, very slowly. So slow, in fact, that maybe it seemed like she wasn’t even moving at all.

“I know, maybe I’m being impatient, but it feels like I’m not really going anywhere. Except, technically I am, but being holed up in a bunker going through endless stacks of paperwork isn’t helping me any. I want to help Ino _in-person_ with the clinic. I want to help treat kids, get prescriptions together, write up reports and do all the boring legwork. With the Uchiha Massacre, too, I want to do my own investigations, talk to people. Really get _out_ there.”

It was a late Friday night when Sakura had arrived at the Western Temple where Sanzang himself personally resided. In one of the inner sanctums, lavish with cherry wood paneling and varnished floors, dim except for the myriad candles they kept lit, was what Sakura could likely call a common room. In the recessed epicenter was a beautifully manicured rock garden showered with moonlight from the overhead skylight. The rest of the common room encompassed it wherein the half dozen other acolytes were absorbed in self-study or meditation, the appointments modest and spartan.

She and Sanzang, on the other hand, were engrossed in a game of Gō. Seated on plush silk cushions with the playing board situated on a low, small table, it made for easy conversation between their turns.

Sanzang considered his next move intently before plucking a piece and setting it on the board with a _clack_ , Sakura tsking softly. “It seems to me like you’ve been stuck in a state of ennui, Sakura-xuéshēng. But, from what I can tell, you already know what needs to be done. You simply need to do it,” Sanzang said simply, eyes meeting Katsuyu’s who had been perching on Sakura’s shoulder.

“I wouldn’t say you’ve been doing nothing, Sakura-chan,” Katsuyu said agreeably. “You don’t always have to move mountains to know where the wind is blowing.”

Sakura couldn’t help but smile wryly at that. “Yeah, you’re right, but I’ve always been a proactive person. It’s why I became a med-nin and not some pencil-pushing doctor who writes for scientific journals, or something.”

“Maybe you need to speak with Hashirama again,” Sanzang suggested suddenly, the slight pucker in his brow evident at his mention. “You’ve already received the full story from Madara, but that clone was created just before his death. Even isolated from the war, he must have valuable insight unpolluted by the history books.” He watched as Sakura considered her next move carefully, hands folded on his lap.

“Yeah, I guess, it’s just…” Sakura planted her cheek in her palm, elbow propped on the tabletop. She glanced up at him abruptly, noticing the unchanged tone towards even Madara. “You… don’t like Madara either, do you? And it probably has more to do with just his involvement in the war.”

Sanzang visibly grimaced, gazing at Sakura with an undisguised fury in his eyes, though untrained at her. “Hagoromo and his descendants are all equally cursed, but those wretches derived from Indra’s stock are particularly abhorrent. It shames me to hold hatred in my heart, but were it not for Indra, his grandmother’s oppression of sages and the Inner Path wouldn’t have gotten so severe. It’s from him the Outer Path is derived, and through him the world became thrown into chaos and hatred for as long as it had been. Only Hamura’s descendants are worthy of redemption from that _demon’s_ breeding.”

Sakura looked down for a moment, their game temporarily paused. “You know… he’s half-Hyūga. And the Hyūga are Hamura’s descendants, right?”

Sanzang’s brows bounced in surprise. “He is?” he quipped in genuine bewilderment before his expression fell into severity again. “I see. If he wishes to seek redemption, tell him he must embrace his Hyūga heritage and abandon the Uchiha name. Only then can he walk the path of forgiveness against the sins of his previous incarnation.”

The kunoichi sighed and mirrored Sanzang in resting her hands on her lap. “That won’t happen. Sanzang-senpai, his clan was butchered. By one of their own, no less, against his will while another… He’s grieving. He lost his clan that he won’t ever get back when he wasn’t even around to protect them. Can’t you understand a little?” she pleaded with the monk, met with his features hardening like stone.

“I understand perfectly,” Sanzang said frostily with a particular stiffness in his spine. “And what I understand is that the actions of he and his people are to blame for their own suffering, and ours. They butchered our kind for centuries, Sakura. It’s why the Land of Forests is so isolationist and cut off from the rest of the world, and why even Altan Orda is seen as non-existent. They hunted us to the brink of extinction, and in their monstrosity, they have paid the price for it. For it is a brutal karmic debt they accrued, and it has been paid.” His hands clenched into fists until his knuckles blanched, but Sakura only felt a rising fury crest in her.

“Just because all that happened doesn’t make it right!” Sakura snarled furiously as her fists slammed into the table, scattering the Gō pieces and smashing the table and playing board in, the legs collapsed and center caved. In a huff, Sakura rose abruptly and stormed from the common room, the astonished faces of the other acolytes following her in stunned silence.

“To hell with this. Come on, Katsuyu-sensei!”

Gods, she needed to get to Shikkotsurin where she could _think_.

* * *

Sakura felt like keeling over and simply basking in the energies of the Temple of the Inner Path the moment she’d gotten there. It felt like a lifetime ago since she’d last been there, the fragrant, sweetly humid air of the jungle filling her lungs while her eyes adjusted easily to the lack of light contrasted to the florescence of the flora that heavily populated the area.

The kunoichi swept aside a glowing curtain of vines that partitioned the cloister from the rest of the open temple complex, motes of fog rising from the chasm it was suspended over. Though such a sight could appear nightmarish to others, its otherworldly beauty never failed to take her breath away.

“Sakura-chan, there you are!” a bright, feminine voice greeted her. Sakura wheeled to see a similarly white slug like Katsuyu awaiting her, streaked by neon pink. “My name is Kaoru, and Katsuyu-sama said I’ll be the one giving you your assignment today.”

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you, Kaoru-san,” Sakura greeted the slug and bowed, the slug inclining her eye stalks in the semblance of one. “What mission would that be?”

“You’re going to be working with Hashirama-san to find something that has yet to be found, Sakura-chan.”

Sakura couldn’t help but be taken aback a bit. While the objective was more mystifying than anything she could think of, the kunoichi briefly wondered if there wasn’t some kind of cipher hidden in the sentence. More than, part of her balked at the idea of working with Hashirama. Though their first encounter had ended on a decidedly neutral note, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy with the new information Sanzang had supplied to her weeks ago. Of what Hashirama had done and the wrath he’d incurred from the Inner Path adherents and clergy.

Still, did she have any choice but to comply? As it was, the stagnancy in her work and fight with Sanzang left a bitter taste in her mouth and she needed a distraction from them. Even if said distraction could promise to be more infuriating than the former two.

“Thank you, Kaoru-san. By any chance, do you know where I can find Hashirama-sama?”

Kaoru glanced sidelong thoughtfully. “He should be waiting in the training atrium you went last time, Sakura-chan. Please be safe when you go.”

Sakura didn’t need further encouragement to make a beeline towards what she supposed was the temple’s training hall, the dōjō where she’d first made her indelible mark with her then newly christened Bloom Release. As she traversed through the winding, suspended stone pathways slightly damp from the fog and humidity, the atrium itself seemed unchanged. It was still as beautiful as ever, splashing whilst she trod over twisting, massive roots that pulsed with the glow of natural energies. Above all, she couldn’t help but smirk a little proudly at the cherry tree she’d erected that was still there, its boughs bearing a tinged, blushing efflorescence while veins of cobalt fed it life. Part of her wondered if it was how Hashirama felt after using his Wood Release, of creating life that _lasted_.

While the kunoichi seemed lost in her own reverie, she barely turned in time to see Hashirama alight with cat-like grace to the ground a few meters behind her, the clangor of his armor barely audible. As she whirled around at the realization, her relaxed expression became one of surprise before it was neutral.

“Oh, Shodai-sama. I almost didn’t see you,” Sakura preempted with a respectful bow, the weight of epiphany heavy on her shoulders.

“It’s good to see you again, Haruno-san. Any luck with that mysterious objective Kaoru-san gave us?” he said with a warm smile on his face. She hadn’t noticed it before, but like her, his eyes glowed; but, unlike hers, his shone with a tawny gold that didn’t seem so unlike his sage mode she’d glimpsed during the war. That, and the light of natural energy could be seen beneath her skin, but not on his on account of this Hashirama being a living wood clone.

Sakura looked thoughtful. “Honestly? My first guess is that it’s a cipher and that my best bet would be to find the temple library and try and decipher it from whatever language the slugs speak natively that isn’t ours,” the kunoichi said with a thoughtful take of her chin by her thumb and forefinger, the brunet’s head canted.

“Huh, I’m not sure if you know how to speak it, but I know of a place that has ciphers in its ruins constructed eons ago. Maybe that could help!” Hashirama suggested jubilantly, boyish eagerness coloring his expression.

Sakura couldn’t help but smirk a little. To think, this was some grown, immortal man who still acted so youthful. He was like Naruto a little, but also much gentler than the rough-and-tumble Uzumaki. At least, gentler in a way she could discern in the few times she’d now been around the Shodai.

“Alright, sounds like a plan, Shodai-sama.”

As the pair of them came to the extreme end of the atrium, the gaping sea of luminous trees spanned before them with endless progression, the ground unseen and swathed in murky, radiant fog. The trunks of the trees stood out as blackened silhouettes save for the pulses of preternatural light that ran along their trunks.

“That Bloom Release of yours, why don’t you try something new with it?” Hashirama suggested with gaming grin tugging at his lips. “After all, the length between the trees is a little too far to get to by jumping.”

Without further prompting, Sakura knew what he meant. Forming the hand seal for Reppō, Hashirama couldn’t help but appear perplexed by the seal he’d likely never seen before but he didn’t question it. The kunoichi, meanwhile, was much more preoccupied with conceiving of what Hashirama was insinuating that she was utterly determined to achieve.

Once more, with closed eyes she tapped into the natural energies mingling with her own reserves of chakra and kneaded them together before dipping another part of her psyche, into that jade cloud she saw in her mind’s eye, visualizing the vines she wished to conceive much in the same manner she had manifested the large cherry tree that proudly stood in its commanding end of the training hall. It was then she felt the elements that composed Bloom Release braided together from her palms, visualizing it in her mind’s eye that was lengthened and enhanced by the sage chakra that flowed so naturally within her person.

Sakura opened her eyes again and was surprised to see that there was a fairly thick and strong vine of tough, black bark and minute profusions of cherry blossoms interspersed on its length. The coiled vine disappeared into the misty vale as if waiting for use.

“Wow. Sometimes I forget how much easier sage chakra makes creating new jutsu, let alone actually implementing it effectively.” She quirked a wry smile at Hashirama. “Part of me can’t help but wonder if it wouldn’t be as effective without it.”

Hashirama became contemplative for a moment, forming the hand seal for the Snake and weaving through others in succession before a vine of his own manifested at a much swifter speed. “Katsuyu-sama told me this when I was young, but the only way anyone can even hope to achieve something like Wood Release—let alone be predisposed to it—is if that person has naturally large reserves of chakra. Sage chakra or not, you wouldn’t have Bloom Release if your chakra reserves were small.”

Honestly… that made a lot of sense. Though Sakura’s reserves hadn’t ever been as large as Naruto or Sasuke’s, considering the fact that she’d originated from an ordinary background compared to the inheritors of Asura and Indra’s chakras on top of hailing from the Uzumaki and Uchiha, respectively—never mind Naruto’s Kyūbi—on top of being blessed by Hagoromo, well… her reserves were pretty damn impressive, if anyone had to ask. Especially since she’d still capable of great feats of healing and superhuman strength even while diverting great amounts of her chakra into her Byakugō Seal before its full formation.

“You know, I think I like that explanation, thank you. But, let’s not dilly dally any longer, alright?” Sakura goaded with a smile, the Shodai’s own taking on a bit of a competitive zeal.

Like being propelled from a cannon did they vault from the sharp precipice and hurled their vines to lasso to branches hidden aloft in the murky canopy, adrenaline pumping through the kunoichi’s veins as she rushed to create a new vine in the midst of their momentum launching into the air after coming to the apex of the swing with a newer vine, throwing it into the branches to repeat the motion until Sakura bore a moment of disbelief where she couldn’t believe how naturally she fell into rhythm with it. They navigated their way adroitly through the boughs bright like candelabras, sailing through with them as guides to light their way.

“Hey, so—“ A burble of amusement rose in her chest at how her voice had a limited time to be projected between their swings, even if their pace was evenly matched; part of her wondered if he wasn’t just being charitable in that regard. Hell, she even wanted to laugh a little as refreshingly cool but humid air breezed past her face. “This place we’re going--what is it, exactly?”

They swung between a few more branches before he answered, slowing his pace so they were largely in step of one another. “They’re Ōtsutsuki ruins. You might have been told a little already, but Hamura’s descendants still live in Shikkotsurin. In the Underground a good mile or so beneath our feet.”

At that, Sakura stopped swinging altogether and landed on a branch, the recoil not even enough to cause the massive extremity to sway the slightest bit. “Wait, you mean—there’s Ōtsutsuki who are still alive?!” Sakura exclaimed a little too loudly, enough to alert Hashirama of her pause.

The man easily alighted back to the branch she occupied then, squatting like a gargoyle on its rough surface. “Well… yes. After all, if Hamura took the Ōtsutsuki to the moon with no descendants, there wouldn’t be a Hyūga clan. Or a Kaguya clan, even if they’re long gone. Or, mostly gone.”

Sakura’s mind boggled. Just how many secrets did this place hold, anyways? Not only was it larger than the 400 miles that contained it on the massive isle, but there was a branch of the Ōtsutsuki still extant? And to think, she thought Hashirama being alive in some kind of way was the most shocking thing she’d learn about the Damp Bone Forest.

“…Wow. Remind me to lock myself in the temple’s archives one of these days—"

A cacophonous roar trumpeted from the mist startled the kunoichi, though Hashirama was much calmer. Having only flinched, Sakura turned to the source of the deafening sound and was shocked to see an eye as large as she was tall fixate upon them both. The massive kaijū it belonged to possessed a cranium the length of a city block, easily dwarfing summons like Manda. Its reptilian maw opened to utter a deep, sonorous bellow that quaked the very branch they perched upon, feeling it through the marrow of her bones. Massive horns of a stony texture curled its head like a ram’s and framed its square, heavy jaw, bony ridges tracing its massive, brooding brow hanging over that lone eye like shade. Flickers of natural energy pulsated throughout its dark, stony hide nearly black as pitch. It was old, likely as ancient as Katsuyu herself, Sakura wagered.

The pair of them remained transfixed as the massive kaijū huffed a windy breath over them both, rustling through their hair before it made its descent by its bulky neck, growth like a mane swaying as it disappeared into the foggy vale as a blurry silhouette like a sea monster of old. The mists swirled from the disturbance before drifting as changeless as it had before.

“And I thought the one I faced when I first came was huge,” Sakura quipped incredulously, cracking a smile. A revelation ran through her mind and she perked towards the Senju. “Wait, hang on—is that why some of your Wood Release jutsu are so ridiculously large? It never made sense when I’d first heard of it, but after seeing that big guy…”

“You’re right,” Hashirama confirmed a little gloatingly, smirking. “Some of my jutsu make no sense when faced against a human foe, but these kaijū? The daikaijū in the Underground are even larger. Around the same size as my True Several Thousand Hands senjutsu, believe it or not.”

“Seriously? Jeez. That explains things. In any case, should we get going again?”

They continued their pace at a breakneck speed, a kind of competition that bloomed between the pair as they raced for this unknown destination, driven by the pure thrill of a promised victory despite how senseless it was to race when she didn’t even know where these mysterious ruins even _were_.

“We’re here,” Hashirama announced, pointing upwards with an excited smile. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Oh, wow…”

Sakura was rendered speechless, a little attributable to how she’d created a dizzying quantity of vines in their wake over the course of their journey. But, that had little to with what stole her breath away.

Affixed to the trunks themselves, soaring above their heads were whole cities tiered in many stories suspended like beehives. The lacy architecture Sakura could see from the aerial view of them from below denoted stunningly intricate architecture, all aglow in a pearly, lunar sheen with streets spiraling dizzyingly from its top to the delicately tapered end. As if imagined from a fairy tale, like legends given life were they so untouched, pristine as newly driven snow. There couldn’t be less than three of them and likely able to house a good thousand people each. Its magnitude grew as they gravitated closer, its vastness making her feel impossibly small.

“The entrance is over here, Sakura-san,” Hashirama directed as he led them to the base of the trunk from the branch they’d landed upon, voice projecting like an echo, walking for a quiet moment until coming to a pearly crystal archway; Sakura giddily wondered if Crystal Release users had existed before from among the Ōtsutsuki and that they’d created these megalithic cities so superfluously eons ago.

The pair moved like spirits through a mausoleum, a sensation of death hanging over the city the moment they both crossed the threshold of the archway. Their footfalls echoed with dissonance, the trek largely silent until Hashirama led them into the beginning of a grand entryway hewn from crystal and stone, Sakura’s gaze turning wistful as they stood beneath what could only be the mighty procession into a former juggernaut of a city.

“It feels strange being here. It feels like we’re disturbing some ancient cemetery to dig up old bones,” Sakura confessed with a furrowed brow, lips pursed.

Hashirama’s easy gait slowed in lieu of Sakura’s admission, frowning briefly. “It does feel like that at first. However, for what it’s worth,” he said with an encouraging smile, “I’ve been coming here for so long and I’ve yet to meet someone who minds. It’s just us and the forest. Even if… I will admit, I hate coming here alone. It’s too lonely, even if it is stunning.”

Sakura reflected guiltily on the vestige of the Divine Tree with the animated clone made in his likeness. “…Yeah.”

The kunoichi found her mood lifting the higher they ascended, the hollowed interior of the massive tree this particular city was suspended from giving way to abandoned city streets they strode along. Despite being so ancient and untouched, the architecture was pristine and spared from eroding, a watery quality absorbing the luminosity of the flora surrounding the city with its glowing foliage whilst it stole those colors to contribute to its supernatural, rippling hue.

Hashirama turned right, fiddling with the heavy stone entrnace of one of the homes, wriggling it until it budged, swung open by virtue of the brunet’s strength. “Here we are. Make yourself at home, Sakura-san.”

Though Sakura half expected it to be some home Hashirama had made for himself, she was surprised to see a veritable library filled to the brim with crystal tablets that bore a slight opacity to them. They lined the shelves, and some littered the floor, but Sakura assumed it was more indicative of use than generations of sudden abandonment.

“Homey,” Sakura quipped with a partial smile as she surveyed their surroundings, the house itself obliviously modest despite its location. It seemed like a two-room home at some point, even if it was completely devoted to these tablets and their storage by then.

“I think it goes without saying, but the tablets nearest the bottom were written the most recently. The language should be more recognizable, especially as you go. It’s a bit tedious, and I’ll admit to never picking up their tongue very well at all,” Hashirama admitted sheepishly, plucking one of the topmost ones to begin their study of.

“Well, thankfully we kinda have all the time in the world to try. I just wonder why Kaoru-san gave such a vague mission. And Kaya one that was technically pointless, even if it did help me master two of my nature transformations more,” Sakura mused as she sank down to the ground, but not before using Crystal Release to make a stool for herself to perch upon.

“It’s intentional. You’ve probably heard of it from one of the Inner Path monks, but… the world of sages and shinobi have been at odds for generations, since my ancestors’ time. They were pushed to the brink and ousted from the world until only the Land of Forests and Altan Orda were left. Though most sage clans tend to be very welcoming to new students, they do this to test the dedication of their human students until they’re satisfied. But, I wouldn’t worry too much!” Hashirama said brightly with a thumbs-up. “Your heritage probably doesn’t have the kind of baggage mine does, so they’re probably just testing you as a part of training. You must be very dear to Katsuyu-sama, Sakura-san.”

Though Sakura wanted to smile, she instead only offered a half-hearted one she was sure wasn’t lost on the Senju. “Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s why I should concentrate on these. Why don’t you take a load off? It’s the least I can do since you brought us here safely.” It was a smokescreen, and she knew it was. And Hashirama likely did, too, as his own smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Alright. I’ll just be over here reading, Sakura-san.” The placation in his voice was present, but it was enough for Sakura as she began transcribing.

From what Sakura could make of the tablets, a good thousand years of history seemed contained in the breadth of knowledge available. Even though part of the kunoichi believed it might have helped to find some key to their ancient language in the Namekujira archives, it was pointless to turn back. But, it was thankfully numbing work.

Sakura eventually migrated to the floor as she wrote in a fat, empty notebook sealed among her other items on her. She began by approaching it like a cryptographer, beginning with the most recent tablet and copying what was written on it as exactly as possible. Then, it was matter of going through the others and doing the same, noting the similarities between characters as she went along and making notes of those mirroring characters. By the time she was finished transcribing and notating all fifty tablets she’d gathered as a body to work from, from there, more pages were filled with a complete cipher she could refer to.

Though Sakura had an ambivalent idea of how long it had been since she’d begun, she knew it would only be a matter of moments until she could translate their conundrum.

“Hey, Hashirama-sama, I cracked the code. Now if I just…” As Sakura quickly wrote the modern characters for the prompt Kaoru had given them on a clean page, she flipped to one previous where the archaic cipher was and began quickly decoding it. As she finished, Hashirama had since abandoned the book he’d been apparently reading and squatted near her with interest. As Sakura wrote in the final translated character, she couldn’t help but frown, puzzled.

“ _'The truth you seek lies within and without'_ ,” Sakura read with a confused lilt to her voice, frown deepened. “Hang on, maybe I didn’t do it right? I don’t get it. If anything, it’s probably more vague than what Kaoru-san already told us!” The kunoichi sighed in exasperation, furiously leafing through her work, looking for flaws.

“Maybe the thing we’re supposed to be looking for can’t be found physically,” Hashirama supposed with a thoughtful hold of his chin, rising to stand. “If anything, I don’t think you translated it wrongly. It simply enforces that this is something that has to be found within ourselves.”

“No, no, no!” Sakura retorted hotly, frustration boiling. “I have to have missed something!” With a huff did she stalk towards the high shelves again, filling her arms with as many tablets as she could manage. Stacking and setting aside the old, she dog-tagged her cipher and arranged the new tablets in another array.

As she organized them in the system she’d devised, her movements slowed when it finally sank in. Her gaze drifted towards the brunet who had his back to her, searching among the other shelves for more tablets in an unspoken bid to help. Even though the answer was an enormous elephant in the room that had been there since they’d begun.

“I was wrong. You’re probably right, Hashirama-sama. I guess I have to stop expecting concrete things when it comes to sages. Especially when the answer has been right there all along.” The Senju turned to her with a curious but suspicious look, hers laden upon him. Sakura’s lips pursed and she gazed vaguely at one of the walls before matching his deep amber ones head on. “If I wasn’t asking now, would you have told me the reason behind why you’ve been living in exile for nearly a century now?”

Hashirama stiffened the moment those words left her mouth, face falling. “It’s more important that you focus on your sage training and goals outside of here than me, but… it would’ve been inevitable at some point.”

The venomous spiel Sanzang had said against Madara hours ago trickled into her mind, and of weeks previous when he’d explained the Inner Path’s own grudge against Hashirama and the Senju as a whole. It was enough that she stood up, and though shorter than him, it made her feel as though they stood on equal ground as she stepped over the tableau of the crystal tablets and nearer to the brunet.

“You knew what you were doing, didn’t you? When you went to Kakazan to capture Son Gokū-sama. You knew that he was the same as Katsuyu-sama, but you did it anyways? Hashirama-sama, why?” she questioned successively, seeing the man visibly stiffen as discomfort made him rigid.

“I did what had to be done. I wanted to offer the tailed beasts as a sign of trust with the other villages, so that no one village would have more power than the other,” Hashirama explained with a withered expression.

“You mean the hidden villages of the other five great nations, completely overlooking the dozens of smaller hidden villages! How the hell is that fair?” Sakura bit bitterly back, feeling something thorny and poisonous well within her that did and didn’t feel entirely connected to this subject they raced down.

“You weren’t there! You don’t understand the kinds of pressures I was under to prevent the tenuous peace we had from falling into chaos! The kind of powder keg that existed between the villages that had barely gotten their clans in line to join them!” Hashirama roared suddenly, as if he himself were a powder keg that had detonated.

Sakura blinked in shock once, but recovered quickly. “And in benefiting one, you completely fucked over the other! Or, should I say both since that peace you hoped to buy didn’t last, did it?” she hissed back, eyes burning with defiance. Even though a dark cloud had settled over the Senju, she was unrelenting. Tsunade had made a bull of her, too. “But, it didn’t stop there, did it?”

“ _ **Enough!**_ ” Hashirama thundered as he smote his fist into a wall, fissures breaking the crystal. His breath was hard before it leveled, even though a darkness rolled from him in waves. “ _Enough_. We didn’t have a choice! After Madara unleashed the Kyūbi on Konoha, the only way we could avoid danger was when Mito sealed it inside herself. It was a last resort, something that was only in her power to do. But, as my wife, we knew that this would send a very bad message to our allies. We devised the jinchūriki system and captured the tailed beasts to prevent a war from breaking out. Sealing the Kyūbi inside Mito was not a goal we had intended on pursuing, ever!”

“But war broke out anyways, didn’t it? And Madara attacked the village because of a slaughter he predicted would occur just a couple of generations later. All because you stuck your head in the sand and completely ignore what’s in front of you in favor of deciding what _you think_ it’s supposed to be,” Sakura fumed, feeling heat build behind her eyes. “Hell, there’s so much you could’ve prevented if you’d just stopped feeling sorry for yourself and burying your head in the sand and being such a _coward!_ ”

Nothing could stop the tears that rolled down her cheeks unbidden in that moment, frustrated and scalding. Sakura did nothing to prevent them, knowing it was something old, something that predated the end to those years of ignorance.

Though a moment of compassion passed over Hashirama’s features at the sight, he only sighed as his wrath deflated. He looked away, looking weary. “I’m sorry, but… you can’t imagine what it was like. I regret a great many things, but even as the _‘God of Shinobi’_ , there’s only so much even I can do,” Hashirama said with a laden sigh.

“Do I?” Sakura challenged, swallowing thickly. Though her eyes were rimmed red, steely with tears, she didn’t relent. “You’re not the only person who couldn’t stop the person you loved from falling into darkness. The only difference is I was almost completely powerless. And I was kept in the dark until recently. You’re not the only one who begged and pleaded for the boy you loved not to leave, only to be completely useless against him falling into darkness!”

Sakura sucked in a breath, resolved to forge ahead. “But unlike you, I wasn’t powerful enough to make a difference. And unlike you, I only found out long after the disaster had happened. Each time I thought I caught up to him, or Naruto, I was slapped back just as harshly when they both became even more untouchable. All I could do was cry and plead for him, even when I saw him falling into darkness first. And… I was useless. Totally and utterly _useless_.”

She knew, it wasn’t darkness of evil, but one that came from a boy who had been abandoned amid a slaughter being ignored for so long and told to shut up and stand in place. All because he wanted one scrap of control in a life that had never felt like his. Though he couldn’t love her back, and probably never would, what she was doing was something she’d promised to do long ago. Because her love wasn’t just love; it was a vow. A vow to help him on the road to peace that revenge was incapable of doing. Even Kakashi knew it for what it was during the war, that she didn’t care if he wouldn't ever love her back. Even if he was her first love and would always hold that part of her heart.

Fresh tears poured down her cheeks, swallowing a hot, thick breath. “But what I’m doing is all I can do. I can’t bring back the Uchiha clan. I can’t go back in time knowing what I do now and actually be useful in bringing Sasuke-kun back into the light. All I have is this desire for there to be truth and justice where there never would have been otherwise,” Sakura murmured, the power in her voice faded. It was almost a whisper, almost too aware of the heat scorching her skull, the kunoichi’s arms folded as she began to turn away. “This is all I have.”

“I’m sorry, Sakura-san. I… was wrong,” Hashirama apologized haltingly, a feeble smile ghosting at the corner of his lips. “But unlike me, I don’t think you failed. You and your friend did more for Sasuke than I ever could for Madara. I was too blind to see it, but maybe someday I can reconcile with him, too.”

As Sakura wiped her cathartic tears away, she couldn’t help feel as though a great weight had lifted from her shoulders.

“I hope you do, too, Hashirama-sama.”

* * *

“I’m sorry, Kaoru-sama, but Hashirama-sama and I couldn’t find what you wanted.”

A few more hours had passed since she and Hashirama’s heart-to-heart and their return to the Temple of the Inner Path, both seated on their haunches and inclined apologetically towards the slug who switched her focus between them both.

“However,” Sakura amended hopefully, “I was able to make a cipher from some old Ōtsutsuki artifacts from those abandoned cities, if that counts for anything.” Her smile was still a bit as sheepish as Hashirama’s, but the tensity from before was all but vanquished.

After a weighty, pregnant pause, Kaoru’s expressionless visage made her sudden laughter all the more unexpected. “I appreciate your thoroughness, Sakura-chan, but doing all that wasn’t necessary! Even if our library would greatly appreciate your findings,” the slug placated kindly, laughter sobered. Her tone took on a warm quality. “You passed above and beyond our expectations. There was… a few misunderstandings between you two, and I’d say you surmounted them quite well.”

 _Maybe more than a few,_ Sakura rejoined internally, but Kaoru was right. It did feel like they’d demolished a wall, but she wouldn’t go so far as to think it was all of them. “Thank you, Kaoru-sama,” she said with an bow of her head.

“You know, you’re right, Kaoru-sama,” Hashirama said with a smile. “I think us slug sages are a bit closer than we were before, so thank you. However, I think I’ll be heading out. I don’t want to distract Sakura-san from her training this weekend.” As he turned to leave, Sakura’s imperative brought him pause.

“Heading out so soon? You know… training with you would probably help, Hashirama-sama—“

“I’m sorry, but this has given me many things I need to think about. Tell me how it goes later!” Hashirama promised hopefully before he disappeared into the radiant treetops, silhouetted against the umbrage above before he disappeared into view entirely.

Sakura simply shrugged after he disappeared, yet she secretly felt the same. “I think I’m going to work on some more jutsu for my nature transformations, so… I’ll see you around, Kaoru-sama?”

If she could smile, Sakura heard it in the slug’s voice. “Very well, Sakura-chan. Let me know if you need anything, hm?”

“Definitely. And… thank you for this, really. I didn’t even know I needed it.”

As they bid their last farewells and Sakura headed towards the training atrium, mind mired in thought, she kmew she had things to think about, too.

Especially while the wild serenity of the forest remained for the weekend she’d be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, just a few things to cruise through in regards to the plot! 
> 
> To begin, Sakura in this AU isn't portrayed with small chakra reserves. While hers are definitely smaller than the likes of Sasuke and Naruto's (especially in all their demi-godhood), they're still large. After all, how could she have managed as much healing and devastation as she had before activating her Byakugō fully? Perfect chakra control or no, she has considerable chakra reserves and I won't budge on this fact. 
> 
> Secondly, sage animals are the biggest trolls when it comes to their students. Quests, or--find the thing, next to the thing, under the thing. New students are like free sitcoms to rom-coms (hint hint), and aside from the canon Hashi elaborated on, they just like messing with their students. 
> 
> Thirdly, the sage region you're going to see a lot of mention of is going to be Kakazan. While there's no confirmation of it as a sage region in canon, it's insinuated to exist. All the hints lay in [Son Gokū](https://naruto.fandom.com/wiki/Son_Gok%C5%AB) himself who is not only listed as a sage despite his jinchüriki not being one (as how I believe Kurama came to be categorized as one on virtue of Naruto being a sage). He's also known as the 'King of the Sage Monkeys' and the 'Great Sage Equaling Heaven', hence the inclusion of Sage Monkeys in this AU. More will come on this much later as Sakura will be highly involved with them!
> 
> Otherwise, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, as the next marks a major plot transition!


	13. Chapter 13

Warning(s): T, none

* * *

The weekend had passed rather uneventfully. In spite of how restive it was, under Katsuyu’s instruction was she able to further hone and develop that had begun in her exploration of the Ōtsutsuki Ruins with Hashirama, its name a simple but encompassing one.

_Bloom Release: Vines Above, Roots Below_

Sakura had wondered if the name wasn’t too gaudy, but the more she practiced with it, refined it, the more she felt as though it was fitting. The training hall already blanketed with a coiled mass of vines and roots that had flourished with a new layer of growth thanks to her, yet she’d cleared out the worst of it. It hadn’t helped when one of the few male slugs of the Namekujira—a stout, radiant orange and dun-hued slug named Kaname—had become her tough-grit, tough-as-nails drill instructor that had commanded her create and manipulate roots and vines in succession until Sakura had sworn she was going to collapse from exhaustion.

Kaname had been proud, though, so it wasn’t a total loss.

Katsuyu gave her the chance to meditate under her guidance, to begin pushing her progression of the Coiled Path and take the first steps into invoking Slug Sage Mode. While it had been something of an arduous climb, Katsuyu admitted that she was making faster progress due to her present ability to regulate natural energies Shikkotsurin was saturated in. It had certainly been an amusing moment when Sakura had become doused with the Acid Body that had begun corroding through the bit of stone she’d been meditating on in the temple and she’d nearly choked on the sour fumes.

What’s more, she wasn’t really sure if she liked how it felt being coated in viscous slime, of its acidic, soured stench when she came into contact with surfaces and objects that began disintegrating. It was such that Katsuyu had taken her to an inner sanctum in the temple where pools of acidic water lay, the stench like a room drenched in vinegar but something Sakura could handle.

Hell, even her eyes looked like Katsuyu’s, and her arms and legs adopted emerald streaks that indicated the beginning stages of Incomplete Sage Mode. As far as Katsuyu could tell, she had completed both the Root and Sacral Nodes, and she couldn’t be anything but ecstatic at the news.

But as all things did, they had to come to an end.

It was late Sunday night when Sakura had returned to the portal room of the Western Temple, prepared to hop in before a hand on her shoulder stopped her. The kunoichi whirled to see a remorseful Sanzang, surprised by the monk’s sudden appearance.

“Sakura-xuéshēng, I owe you an apology,” the man began, genuinely contrite as he genuflected before her. Though Sakura was unused to such displays, she listened on, anyways. “For what I said, for dishonoring the name of the Uchiha in such a way and disrespecting your efforts to seek justice for the crimes against them. It was wrong of me to make such hateful assumptions towards an innocent people who had no right to be slaughtered the way they were.”

Though part of her wanted to forgive him right away, to sit on her haunches and assure him that all was fine, she knew it wasn’t. Between them, maybe.

“Sanzang-senpai… you don’t have anything to apologize to me for. We’re friends, and friends sometimes get into arguments and say hurtful things.” Sakura trailed off, a note of wistfulness in her tone. “But, this isn’t my apology to accept. One of these days, I hope you get to meet one of the Uchiha still out there, and I hope you can seek forgiveness from them in person. It’s not good to harbor that much hatred. You have to resolve it your own way, but it’s not up to me to accept an apology on behalf of the people who deserve it, that I’m not part of. I hope you understand.”

Sanzang’s gaze rose to hers with an expression full of remorse before it bloomed into an understanding smile, peace flooding his features. He stood up before her and bowed again. “You couldn’t be more right. I must do something about this hatred in me, and when the time comes… I hope I can seek reconciliation with one of the Uchiha I have dishonored by harboring such vile sentiments.”

Sakura couldn’t help but look proudly on at him, wishing there might be more reconciliation between wronged peoples as they had, would endeavor to do. Still, she knew she couldn’t remain.

Placing a frinendly hand on his shoulder, she said good-bye before the man saw her off, the world disappearing into a whirlpool of distorted, tempestuous light and sound as she was taken home.

Because gods knew she had a new trail to blaze.

* * *

Months had passed since then.

Spring had lapsed into life, that into summer, midsummer into the hot balm of a heat that was beyond even that. The pinnacle of verdant life, of humidity and fragrance, thunderstorms and monsoon rains. It was life at its fullest, and on that particular day, it had chosen to rain.

It had been five months since then, at least. Sakura had a goal when she’d set out from the Western Temple exactly five months ago to that day, and she knew she hadn’t begun to do more than scratch the surface and create a bit of a powdery mess of it.

Sakura had been far from stagnant, that much was certain. She’d mastered fifteen new jutsu for her Crystal Release, had fully realized all seven for Bloom Release, and had managed to master Mud Release. Of sage mode she had ascended as high as the Throat Node, the rung of the Coiled Path where she’d soon transition into Complete Sage Mode. Ibiki and Santa had trained her ruthlessly, rendering her immunity to genjutsu nearly perfect and her resistance to mental infiltration was nearly on par with the best of the Yamanaka. The kunoichi was assured in her prowess, and was training diligently to round them out even further.

Even her progress with the Konoha Children’s Mental Health Clinic had become more proactive. She was hosting therapy sessions with their patients, doling out and concocting prescriptions in their in-house pharmacy, had finished their new Diagnostics and Statistics Manual with Ino, and was on the verge to making their full debut. Their wing of the hospital campus was completed, and they were expanding and improving the facilities all the time.

But, it wasn’t totally enough.

Sakura had hit a rut with the investigations for the sole reason of Root being massive anomaly that gated her progress. For months, she’d kept herself abreast of Anbu and Kamae himself, what with their post-Great War approach being more open-ended and accounted for than the previous incarnations had ever been. Though they were still vastly secretive, Kamae had begun publishing a security report to the public with the Hokage’s blessing that gave monthly overviews on their activities outside of Konoha’s borders, much of which entailed peacekeeping, crime mitigation and elimination, and otherwise giving the impression of an organization that worked to better Konoha’s security.

But, each time she looked at one of those reports, the kunoichi felt as though it were mocking her to her face. Like there was some glaringly obvious secret that everyone knew but she didn’t, not unlike the truth of the Uchiha Massacre that had kept her in the dark for so long.

“It just… It feels like he’s mocking us!” Sakura exclaimed in frustration as she punched a wall of the training room she and Santa had been occupying, in the wake of a concluded training session that had pushed the limits of her mind as they commonly did. Upon impact, a web of cracks spanned and she hissed from the unconscious expulsion of chakra she hadn’t intended. “Or maybe, _me_ specifically.”

“Sakura-kōhai, have you spoken or worked with him recently?” Santa asked as he wiped beads of sweat from his face with a small hand towel.

Sakura bit her lip and shook her head. “No. And it’s not like it’s impossible to get to him. When he’s not conducting missions or other confidential affairs, he speaks at the Academy and teaches some classes on stealth and cipher-breaking. Sometimes, he openly volunteers in charity institutions, like the goddamn _soup kitchen_ , or goes on international joint missions for peacekeeping as an ambassador… It’s like there’s no wrong this guy can do!” Huffing, she folded her arms and leaned against a wall with a sigh.

The auburn-tressed Yamanaka was soon to join her, hands pocketed. “I don’t want to suggest something outrageous, but there’s also the possibility that he’s clean and nothing wrong with his character. He’s been nothing but the ideal Konoha shinobi since he became known almost half a year ago.” He glanced at Sakura surreptitiously who simply snorted.

“Gods, I must sound so crazy, but I know what I heard from him. Kamae sounded… off. Like he was hiding something insane. Like he could be pushed into doing something really depraved if it meant protecting the village.” Sakura’s brow furrowed, mired in thought. “He’s like a powder keg waiting to blow if he hasn’t already and no one’s been the wiser.”

“You’re far from crazy, Haruno. In fact, I couldn’t agree with you more.”

Santa and Sakura straightened the moment they heard Ibiki’s voice, dipping into quick, respectful bows towards their commanding officer. “Morino-sensei!” Though it wasn’t always necessary—especially behind closed doors where they could be more familiar with each other—there was a protocol they had to follow.

“At east, both of you,” Morino acknowledged with a curt nod. “Yamanaka-san, would you give us a moment? There’s something confidential I need to speak with Haruno-san about.” Without another word, Santa pushed his way through the gymnasium’s double doors, Morino not electing to speak until they closed with a click of finality. Sakura had since pushed off from the wall, aware of the heavy gravity of that moment.

“You’re right about Kamae. Something is wrong with him. The Anbu’s restructuring has caused some alarming trends I’ve noticed. For starters, no Anbu agent has gone on missions higher than A-rank in months since he took power. In most cases, that could be attributed to this new era of peace we’ve somehow slipped into automatically, but we both know this isn’t true. The dozens of smaller nations outside of the Great Five have also been classed as lower-index threats when, if anything, the Great War has caused greater disparity between the five and everyone else that has been struggling immensely. And this is just extraneous, publicly available evidence I’ve managed to find myself.”

Sakura couldn’t help but be taken aback, her mind reflecting on the things she’d learned regarding those things. To those in any branch of government, mission dossiers of those conducted for any given length of time—such as in a last week or month—were available no matter what branch requested such information. Even Anbu, outside of Root, was subjected to the same, low-level accountability and transparency. Especially in a new era that promised and demanded it. As for the nation threat index, from what she could remember just before the war, many smaller nations were medium- to high-level and had been for years, only worsening since the end of the war due to unresolved internal affairs they were left to fend for themselves on despite the massive spike in criminal activity across the world.

“Have you had any luck requesting communiques from any of these countries regarding Anbu activity in those areas? They can’t all be silent on the matter,” Sakura mused to herself, arms folded thoughtfully.

“I did, but there’s been nothing. However, what I can say is that something worse has been going on. From what my sources can gather, local criminals have been dispatched at alarming rates, but all the spoils and swag in their inventories has just up and vanished. More so, a few countries I can think of have fallen into extreme poverty due to power being seized by extremely powerful drug lords and gangsters who have come into power in ways no one precipitated. It’s like the Land of Waves but on a scale we haven’t seen before,” Ibiki replied, pocketing his hands.

“So, what you mean to say is that they’re all connected? That Anbu could be illegally interfering in the countries that have caused problems, but are being removed from the threat index once these gangsters come into power? And it’s not being accounted for because of Kamae?” she surmised with a frown. This wasn’t good. In fact, she’d go so far as to say that it was worse than even she could’ve anticipated.

Because it made sense, didn’t it? When Kamae’s insistence of a Konoha-first zeitgeist had become apparent, it was easy to connect that he’d go to extremes to see it happen. With these smaller, mostly neighboring countries being hobbled by inordinately powerful crime lords, it was a kind of control by endowing those criminals as bondsmen to Konoha. That in keeping troubled nations too weak to retaliate, they held those nations in a cuckold. Their power also bought their silence on Kamae’s involvement.

“All this time, and I had no idea…” Sakura murmured, still horror-struck to believe that all of this had occurred right under her nose. All because she’d been holed up in her bunker or in another world too removed to see it. Hell, she hadn’t spoken with any of her friends aside from Ino in months! “Is there any way I can stop it? Intercept those missions and stop them before they can begin, maybe?”

“No, there isn’t,” Ibiki said gravely, a deep frown etched upon his worn visage. “All except for one.”

Hopefulness smoothed her features, straightened with interest, receptive.

“You’ll have to join Anbu if you want any hope of collecting enough evidence to implicate and charge Kamae.”

It felt as though she’d been struck by lightning at the thought. Like many kids growing up, Sakura had possessed an idealized daydream of what it meant to be a member of Anbu. Of being an international spy and kunoichi who only answered to the Hokage. Now, however, after meeting someone like Sai, she saw it antithetical to everything she valued as a person who held on to her humanity zealously.

And now he was telling her that was how she was supposed to take them down? Though she might have been quarrelsome when she was younger, Sakura knew that Ibiki was right. She bit her lip and sighed, the only defiance she really had to show.

“It’s funny, but I know exactly the kind of bullshit to say that would convince Kamae of my reason for joining. Because I used to be just as blindly devoted to Konoha until several months ago,” Sakura mused before she trained her gaze on the man. “How am I going to get in? Doesn’t the Hokage pick and choose the candidates themselves?”

“Yes, and I already penned a letter of recommendation urging Lady Fifth to consider your application, that your talents would be wasted in just the mental health clinic. Seeing as I have your consent, I’ll send it within an hour and you should hear from her before the day is through.”

“Thank you, Morino-sensei. Really, for all of this. I promise that your faith in me won’t be wasted.”

“It won’t be, Haruno, because it never has been. Do what needs to be done.”

* * *

When Sakura returned to her bunker a few hours after collecting some groceries from the nearby corner market, having finally organized her canned goods and kitchen itself in a way she hadn’t since first living there.

As she wandered into the conference room, she couldn’t help but reflect how much had changed those past several months. What had begun as thousands of case files she studied for the case and clinic alike had dwindled to a trickle. Unreasonable stacks had been cleared away into a few sturdy filing cabinets that had numbered in the half dozen previously. By then, it was becoming more isolated into specific cases with undocumented mental illnesses she and Ino researched together, finding they worked together faster than apart.

That, and everything she could access outside of Danzō and Root’s involvement had caused her investigations to grind to a screeching halt no matter who or what she consulted for information on the matter. It was a cause of frustration, but in a strange way, it had forced circumstances to begin embarking in real investigations like she’d wanted to. With all the research from the instructional literature of the Konoha Military Police Force and skills she had as a kunoichi, she felt more than ready to tackle the job of becoming an Anbu despite how dehumanizing it’d ultimately be.

As Sakura sat at her desk going over patient files from her clinic on the computer, Katsuyu appeared on its perimeter with a serene air. “Oh hey, Katsuyu-sensei. Just the slug I wanted to see,” Sakura greeted with a crooked, jocular smile. Katsuyu chuckled a little herself. “So… how are you and the slugs since last weekend? Have you seen any sign of Hashirama-sama?”

For reasons they couldn’t explain, after that one mission to decipher a riddle Kaoru had given that yielded into them being emotionally open with one another, no one had seen the brunet since then. Sakura couldn’t help but feel it was partly her fault, especially since she’d unloaded a fair deal of accusations on him on top of progress they’d made in their acquaintanceship.

“No, no luck yet, Sakura-chan. But, please don’t feel bad. It’s not the first time Hashirama-sama has disappeared on us, only to reappear later on. It’s simply something he does. Why, it’d been over a year since I’d heard from him when he suddenly happened on you training. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” Katsuyu consoled, though Sakura was admittedly dubious. While Katsuyu had no reason to lie, she remained unconvinced that she wasn’t at fault.

Though the kunoichi winced a little, and Katsuyu saw it, she pretended to be placated. “Alright. You do know him better, so it’s probably nothing to worry about.”

“Something else is on your mind, isn’t it, Sakura-chan?” she prompted gently, a knowing smile in the slug sage’s voice.

Sakura leaned back in her chair with an exaggerated sigh. “Boy, is it. Well, I’ve been in a major pigeon hole with the investigations in the Uchiha Massacre, and I literally ran out of material. But, I talked over it a bit with Santa after we finished training a little while ago and he said there’s probably nothing wrong with Kamae and the new Anbu, until Morino-sensei showed up and said I was right—” Self-consciously aware of how she was prattling, Sakura sheepishly collected herself. “Basically, he asked if I wanted to join the Anbu and I agreed.”

Katsuyu’s eye stalks and body tensed comically in surprise, the mollusk in a titter. “You’re going to join Anbu, Sakura-chan? That’s wonderful news— Unless, it’s not really?” she hazarded cautiously, to which Sakura puffed air through a bit of stray bangs framing her face.

“No, it is, but not because I think it’s an honor. It’s basically my ticket in to investigate Root uninhibited and really grill those bastards for everything they’ve done. And who knows how deep it must all really go?”

Sakura fell thoughtfully silent. In doing this, she knew of the risks involved, of the fraudulent reasons she was joining for could lead her to being branded for treason if the wrong people discovered her, but if she kept her head down and found out everything she could… she knew that what she discovered would impact the village for generations. Especially since scum like Danzō had died a martyr, the real reasons of him being a traitor a well-kept secret to that day. Not even her Tsunade-shisō knew.

“You’ll need an alias, won’t you, Sakura-chan? Do you have a plan for all this?” Katsuyu broached, snapping Sakura from her brief reverie.

“I do, actually, provided they let us choose,” Sakura began conversationally as she craned for a small notebook, flipping to the requisite page. “Given the fact that I don’t want anyone to know I’m a sage or see the abilities I’ve amassed since beginning that training, sage mode and my kekkei tōta are out of the question. The same goes for chakra-enhanced strength and my medical ninjutsu except in emergencies for the latter. So, I’ve decided that I’m going to stick with genjutsu, Inner Sakura, fūinjutsu, shurikenjutsu, and Ōmukade itself—sorry, Katsuyu-sensei.” She smiled apologetically at the slug who too easily forgave her.

“I’m sorry to hear that I won’t be joining you, but… given Ōmukade’s disposition, it might be for the best with what you’ll face. However… why must you keep your abilities as a sage a secret? You’ve made such amazing progress; why not utilize them outside of Shikkotsurin?”

At that, Sakura’s lips pursed and her face fell. The air became laden with a wistful kind of thoughtfulness. “Because… it’s what we’ve been saying from the start,” Sakura murmured as she folded her arms. “Going against the Konoha Council is one thing, exposing the Uchiha Massacre and implicating the village is another, never mind what I’ll be doing in Anbu is treason no matter how you cut it, but… Once the fruits of this are borne and I reap what I sow? Katsuyu-sama… I don’t think I’ll be able to live here for that much longer afterwords. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to think that people I’m friends with won’t like me afterwords, either.”

As much as she tried to fight it, tears beaded in her eyes and fell. Sakura had known from the very beginning that what she was doing would see her life change forever, and not entirely for the better. Part of her wondered if why she’d thrown herself into pioneering psychiatry with Ino was because of this looming inevitability that would tear her down the moment it struck. Aside from that gnawing sensation of not living up to everyone's acclaim of surpassing Lady Fifth that spurred it, she wanted that idea planted in stone before she went and fucked everything up for herself, justified or no.

And of the people she knew, there wasn’t much of anyone she could confide in. People like Sasuke and Madara, however involved, weren’t people she could dump her troubles on. Hashirama had bolted for the hills months ago and they were still acquaintances, and Sanzang wasn’t receptive to her bitching about seeking justice for a people that had done so much damage to the adherents of the Inner Path even if he had sought absolution for his words. Forgiving his friend and student was leagues apart from forgiving ancient history that had driven them into isolation from the world outside.

_Gods, why does this all have to be so messed up?! I have more people in my corner, yet I still feel so goddamn **alone**!_

As Sakura felt the stinging trails of tears silently shed, Katsuyu’s familiar weight on her shoulder drew her from it and she nuzzled into her neck, startling the kunoichi despite how comfortable it was. Though she wondered if it was meant to help abate her tears, instead she let them fall bitterly, carving red trails on pale cheeks.

“Someday, if that time comes and you don’t feel safe in the village… please remember that you have the Namekujira, especially me. I… see you as a daughter, Sakura-chan. It might be strange to hear from someone that isn’t even human, but it’s very much true. We sage clans treasure our students like family, and even before then, you’ve been very dear to me. I love you, Sakura-chan.”

Overcome with emotion, Sakura didn’t even know what to say as she tugged Katsuyu into a tight hug, this being that had been by her side from the very beginning being, the very presence that had been there and supported her from the start. And would continue to be there no matter what she did.

“I love you, too, Katsuyu-sama.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, while there's nothing really lore-worthy to add here, this does mark the beginning of a new arc that will really take off in a few chapters. While five months might feel like an enormous stretch of time, given how Sakura would have been doing much of the same with training, the clinic, and her investigations as she had been in the previous several chapters, it was necessary to move on. And since this particular part spans roughly four years total, there's a lot more ground to cover!
> 
> To those wondering what Sakura's Incomplete Slug Sage Mode looks like, [look no further](https://leporvox.tumblr.com/post/187297137539/sanin-cover-revealed-allegedly-from-kishimoto). Not only does it appear to be official art, but I believe this is a ghost of an idea of what Slug Sage Mode might've looked like had Kishi made it canon. 
> 
> See you all next chapter!


	14. Chapter 14

Warning(s): T, none

* * *

Of all the areas that had survived from antiquity by Pein’s invasion of Konoha, the Uchiha Compound was among the few. Sakura knew better than to think those reasons were fond or fair, but considering how much outside help they’d been getting with the village’s reconstruction since even before the war, it was difficult to tell what was original and what was newly built. The fact that so many buildings and facilities had been modernizing at an unprecedented rate had something to do with it, but Sakura could barely recognize what had once been an empty, gaping maw where Pein had devastated Konoha.

The way towards the Uchiha Compound had become lined with overgrown vegetation that scaled over the compound walls and poured over the gated entrance like a cascading waterfall, a verdant shower to the dusty roads that ran towards it. Though it had become barricaded with powerful fūinjutsu, as it had been Sakura’s idea in the first place to confine him there, the high midsummer sun that scaled its walls cast a cheery, bright radiance over what should have been a dreary, ominous place since the massacre. Even the facade of the Konoha Military Police Force headquarters seemed to incline towards her in greeting, paint bright.

Though Sakura didn't worry about stalkers tailing her, she felt guilt flower thickly in her throat. It had been five months since she’d come, and her mind couldn’t help but drift to the Uchiha. In his time there, she’d visited the Mountain’s Graveyard for more than just reconnaissance; she’d searched it for as many of his personal effects as she could find. His weapons, spare tunics and other clothing, anything at all. All smuggled in via Katsuyu who would deposit mysterious scrolls for him to find that even Anbu couldn’t intercept.

She just hoped that he’d liked what he’d gotten, and that it’d helped him somehow.

Sakura gestured a few hand seals and the illusory gate festooned with warning signs promising severe consequences for trespassing faded like a mirage, the kunoichi hurriedly trotting through as it rippled back into formation like it’d never been disturbed in the first place. The barrier ninjutsu was powerful, but considering that Santa had been the one to devise it via his Uzumaki-inherited gift with fūinjutsu, Sakura had been given a way around it.

She couldn’t describe what she felt walking down the main thoroughfare. Though devoid of any life, it felt less like a mausoleum and more like a place waiting to be lived in. As if it had been another completed sector of the village restored after the Great War awaiting residents to trickle back and fill it.

It was towards the main estate she trailed towards, lingering in the streets with a sense of pensiveness that slowed her until she paused. It seemed to tower high on the horizon, and part of her couldn’t believe that such a lavish manse had been Sasuke’s home before the slaughter.

The piercing cry of a hawk at her back caused the woman to turn sharply, only for an aftermath of wind and a streak of black too swift to be seen sailed past her, ruffling her hair slightly. Though she hadn’t anticipated it, it was obvious what it was.

And who it could be.

With an admitted smile, her gait increased into a brisk canter and she came to the open gate of the Uchiha Main Branch’s estate, cottony white clouds sculling lazily on the horizon framed by woodland at the rear of the estate, and an unexpected feeling of giddiness welled within the kunoichi.

Sakura felt beckoned by the criesof the avian that disappeared into the sprawling grounds that rolled into the woods like the shores of a sea, coming to a back gate that she lingered on the threshold of, joyed by the sight.

It was with a quiet kind of happiness that she saw as the bird beat its wings to bank on the falconer’s leather gauntlet, black mane apparent as to who it was.

“I sensed you coming from miles away, Haruno-san,” Madara said as the hawk unfurled its wings to steady itself on his leather gauntlet from sudden if minute motion, Sakura able to recognize the raptor as one of the village’s before what she suspected was forced retirement in the advent of networks common throughout the five nations those days.

Though Sakura was cautious in the wide berth she gave him—mindful of the sensitivity regarding his sensory blind spot—it wasn’t long before she came to his flank opposite the hawk that flew free of its perch, Madara’s arm recoiling once as he lowered it again. She couldn’t help but admire the way the hawk sailed on a new current of wind.

“That’s one of the old messenger hawks, isn’t it? I thought he looked familiar. Sora, right?” Sakura guessed as Madara motioned to remove his leather gauntlet, the hawk’s cries resonating through the sky. “It’s a fitting name. He always was Tsunade-shisō’s favorite.”

It felt nice being around Madara again. Though it was an emotion she’d never thought would be felt around him, a quiet kind of camaraderie settled in a comfortable pall over the pair. With the new journey she was slated to embark on, Sakura hadn’t even realized how much she needed this.

Madara nodded obliquely, sensing the change in atmosphere. “The retired messenger hawks had no where to go, so mention of my ability as a falconer was offered, and I was given the opportunity to create a kind of sanctuary for them to live their twilight years. But… there’s something else weighing your mind,” the Uchiha guessed easily, gazing sidelong at her.

Sakura could only smile apologetically. “I’m sorry, Madara-sama, but… you’re the only person I can really talk to about this, and dumping it on Sasuke feels too selfish. I won’t drag it out too much, especially since I have a bad habit of making things about me,” Sakura clarified sheepishly, rubbing the nape of her neck.

“Regardless, let’s get some tea. I put a kettle on before coming outside and wouldn’t mind someone to enjoy it with.”

Minutes would pass between that and the moment Madara reappeared from the interior, wooden tray and modest tea set in hand. As Sakura had perched upon the lip of the engawa, Madara settled beside her with the tray situated between them. As it overlooked the inner courtyard, the groomed, open-air gardens provided a somewhat different view than the woodlands surrounding the compound. Politely, he poured her a serving in an earthenware mug and gave it to her before doling out some for himself. Scenting jasmine and sweet grass, Sakura sighed appreciatively as she took the first, tentative sip, finding the herbal blend milder than it might’ve been otherwise. Madara mirrored her, then considered her speculatively. That alone was encouragement to speak.

“I’ve hit a dead end with the investigations. I’ve looked everywhere I can, but all roads lead to the same place and I have no other way of breaking through.” She met his gaze furtively. “By tonight, I’ll be part of Anbu.”

Madara seemed taken aback by the news, but not unpleasantly. As if he anticipated her next concern, he replied, “That contradicts your want to be more human than kunoichi. The Anbu is the pinnacle of what it means to be a tool of your village. Therefore… you’re not doing this because you want to, but because it’s a last resort, aren’t you?”

With a nod, Sakura placed her mug back on the wooden tray, hands clasped on her lap. “Yes,” she confirmed with a conflicted look “I’ve hit a rut I can’t get out of, and Root’s unavailability from public inquiry is what’s keeping me from moving forward with the investigation. You’re right, I don’t want to have to, but there aren’t any other options.”

Madara grew quiet for a moment, Sora soaring into view as the hawk crested above their heads, shadow playing across them. “Are you afraid you might lose your humanity, Sakura-san?”

Sakura couldn’t help but smile a little fondly at the lack of formality, feeling like another step towards real familiarity had been taken. “A little. I think I’m more worried about being ratted out because I’m so… unsuited to this. Because I only kill if there’s no other way, or if I’m driven to it in order to protect someone else. It’s why I became more of a healer and less of a normal kunoichi,” Sakura admitted honestly, the Uchiha nodding once. “Well, for the most part.”

Speaking to Madara felt so easy, like the past enmity of the last several months hadn’t existed. But, knowing that he’d begun with wanting violence because of how she’d only been a symbol of everything he hated about Konoha, and not a person, made this interaction all the more significant. Because he wasn’t Madara, God of Destruction, the means to an end of the Curse of Hatred that began with Indra, the one whom had lost all sense of self for his name to mean power and all disillusioned with the current world… Part of her wanted to believe that, maybe, just _maybe_ , he was beginning to see more of Madara Uchiha, the man, in himself, too.

“Then it seems we’re both an impasse, being in places where we cannot truly be ourselves,” Madara said with a heaviness. “I live in this place, knowing I walk the streets, cultivate a garden, and live in this manse of the graveyard where my kith and kin died. Knowing that I am the reason my clan is dead.” The Uchiha swallowed thickly, head inclined with hair falling in his face like a curtain. “The Curse of Hatred began with me; I was the one who started it, who made this wretched place forever fetter them on this… mistrustful precipice they could never climb down from. And I was the one who bastardized that boy who was abandoned by his clan, stripped away everything he ever loved, and made him into a remorseless machine for revenge by the time he helped that Itachi kill them.”

Though Sakura wanted to comfort him, this tangent reminded her of how ultimately futile her efforts to expose the Uchiha Massacre really were. Even if she succeeded, even if she brought Kamae and Root down, it wouldn’t bring the Uchiha back. Sasuke would never have his family again, would never know another Uchiha except the ancestor that shouldn’t have even survived. All it would do was force the village to examine the truth of what happened to a clan whose name became irreparably tarnished by the Great War. And she knew, she’d have to tell the full story…

Of Madara’s machinations from the very beginning, of how he reared the modern Akatsuki through Obito, had planted his eyes in the Uzumaki who would become a destroyer who brought untold despair. And she would have to tell the whole truth of how she entered Root under false pretense, with consequences she knew would have devastating results. To herself, even if she intended on good, it wouldn’t entirely be seen that way.

She’d known this from the beginning. Speaking to Madara like this didn’t inspire what she thought it would.

“What’s done is done, right?” Sakura said with a shrug, though her eyes had lost their luster. “I’m sorry… that must have sounded really callous of me. But, this is all I can do. It’s like with Sasuke-kun. All I’m really capable of doing is trying to salvage what remains, aren’t I? It was the same when he left, too.”

Madara gazed at the kunoichi wistfully, lips pursed but not unsympathetic. “You’re the only reason the rest of this wretched village will realize what they wrought. That might not seem like much to you, but it means the world to someone like me.”

There it was. That feeling of hope, of validation, she’d been searching for. Even if she didn’t need it, she’d needed to hear it. That she was doing some actual good and not being that selfsame girl who tried battling people beyond all hope of being defeated; Team Dosu, Gaara before he’d changed, Sasuke defecting… Because being brave wasn’t always enough in a world where power mattered.

Or… maybe she just needed to be told that she was enough.

Sakura mustered a smile at Madara’s words, taking genuine heart in them.

“Thank you… Madara-san. That means the world to me, too.”

* * *

By evening, Sakura was summoned to the Anbu Headquarters located in the subterranean levels of the Hokage Tower. Sometimes, she found it difficult to believe that such a foreboding place existed beneath where she’d spent years under Tsunade’s wing, and especially in the Academy itself located on the main premises. Remarkably, many locations hidden below ground had survived Pein’s Assault and the Anbu Headquarters was one of them.

A massive arcade ran the length of the entrance and extended into a concourse wherein multiple corridors and doorways either allowed or prevented entry. The arched ceiling itself was lit by rows of cold, florescent lighting and the architecture was cold, featureless concrete not unlike the dungeons of the Intelligence Division. Masked Anbu turned towards her curiously—clad in her typical Chūnin uniform and the specialized dog tags that spoke of her rank in T&I—and seemed to know who she was, some unintelligible gossip said between them before they disappeared down one of the many corridors.

“Sakura, I didn’t expect to see you here, of all places.”

Sakura lit up in recognition of the voice, delighted to find Sai waiting for her near the reception desk. She trotted towards him, unable to help the genuine smile of relief on her features.

“Sai, look at you! How have you been? It feels like it’s been forever since we last spoke,” Sakura greeted as the two friends inclined their heads in greeting. After all, he was as much a member of Team 7 as the best of them.

Sai smiled at her enthusiasm. “Yes, it really has been several months, hasn’t it? A lot of things have changed. I’m an Anbu captain and you’re joining us. You’ll have to get me up to speed after this,” he replied, voice light and jocund for all its subtly.

“Wow? Anbu captain? I guess I’m not really surprised. You always had it in you, didn’t you, Sai?”

“But of course. Would you expect anything less of Sai-san, Haruno-san?”

Sakura’s cheer admittedly faltered when Kamae’s voice crept up from behind like a serpent in the grass. She schooled her features neutrally, turning to bow to the man. “Kamae-sama. It’s been awhile since that day, hasn’t it?” she greeted neutrally, remembering that uneasy day after Sasuke’s therapy session.

Kamae smirked at her greeting. “Please, there’s no need for formalities. Things are a little different this time around, right, Sai-san? We’re all friends and comrades here.”

“That’s right,” Sai deadpanned, but she doubted it was malicious. Though, Sakura couldn’t help but wonder if Sai harbored the same skepticism towards Kamae as she did. “Anyways, as much as we should catch up over ramen, I have to get going, Sakura, Kamae-sama. If you’ll excuse me.” Without imparting another word, Sai turned on a heel and made for the exit briskly.

“Looks like it’s just the two of us. Oh, forgot to mention it, but aside from my other duties, I’m in charge of recruitment around here. We should probably start the interview soon,” Kamae said breezily as he proceeded towards one of the office rooms, Sakura trotting to catch up with the taller man. Though she hadn’t anticipated an interview, she knew better than to predict anything of what happened in Anbu.

The door to Kamae’s office shut with a click, the confines even more spartan than Ibiki’s. Filing cabinets dominated one of the walls, the other by bookshelves ruled by instructional literature that ran the gamut, the kunoichi uninterested in perusing. On the simple desk did Kamae sink down into his chair, contrasted to his rough and scrappy appearance. He gathered a few sheets of paper in his hands, Sakura just able to tell that they were a file on her.

“Hm, let’s see here… You have quite the number of impressive achievements, Haruno-san.” He flashed her a smile and Sakura didn’t know if it was supposed to be charming or not. “Let’s see… you’re a documented genjutsu-type who received consistently high marks in the Academy, was able to discern genjutsu used during the Chūnin Exam Preliminaries on top of dispelling an A-rank genjutsu, answered the written exam without cheating… And of the self-acclaimed ‘Konoha 11’ I hear so much about, your statistics rank on par with someone like Neji, _k_ _ami_ rest his soul. By the time you were 17, you mastered nearly all of your master’s ninjutsu, invented a wide variety of CES ninjutsu and medical ninjutsu, you trained under and surpassed Lady Fifth as a Neo-Sannin, trained under Ibiki Morino who made particular mention of your ability with genjutsu and resistance to it and psychic attacks, at noted by Santa Yamanaka…” The man smirked and glanced at her, causing Sakura to stiffen slightly before he continued.

“During Pein’s Assault, you were one of the sole med-nin who healed countless people, and during the war itself, your knowledge contributed to the understanding of the White Zetsu which saved many, you healed the Allied Shinobi Forces on your own after activating the Byakugō Seal and its jutsu only to heal them again after, was instrumental in Kaguya’s take down. And after the war, you’re working towards pioneering the field of psychology that no one has before, not unlike Lady Fifth did for med-nin…” He hummed and set the sheaf of paper down, smile crooked and feline. Like she was a canary he was transfixed on.

“I think it goes without saying that these accomplishments alone could gain you entry into Anbu before you could blink twice. And that’s only what I skimmed through. However,” and Sakura straightened at that, “I want to hear why _you_ want to become an Anbu agent. Your reasoning is half what could get you in, unlike in the past.”

The kunoichi forced herself to relax, to appear willful and determined. Although, it was less acting and more of what Ibiki and Santa’s training instilled in her.

“It’s not really a secret that I’ve been looking through a lot of case files as a member of T&I, right? Studying as much as I have for as long as I have… it’s caused me to realize how much goes on in the world I never knew even existed. How much instability and injustice there is. There’s only so much I can do to protect my village and comrades from outside threats, and staying in the hospital when I could be much more useful as one of the Hokage’s means for peace makes so much more sense. I have the Byakugō, and I have a bigger range of abilities than just healing and punching things.” Sakura smiled wryly at Kamae who returned it, humored. “Abilities that could help get our village back on top so we can protect the world like we should in this new era.”

Though the delivery was genuine, Sakura couldn’t help but feel bile rise in her throat. It sounded so convincing and sincere, all of it. Kamae’s new vision for Anbu as the Hokage’s elite peacekeeping force made perfect sense for the times they were in, of the rampant criminal activity that flourished in the wake of the Great War, let alone what afflicted smaller countries unable to fend for themselves the way those of the Shinobi Alliance could. It was no wonder why Kamae’s name was regarded so highly in the village, fronting as a transparent, altruistic man bent on elevating Konoha and securing the Land of Fire’s future.

Kamae, too, reflected that. He clapped his hands once, twice, before standing from his seat and setting aside her dossier. Gesturing for Sakura to stand, he thrust his hand for the kunoichi to shake. “Goddamn, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear!” the man enthused while pumping his hand with a vigor. “Considering the fact that Team 7 is already composed of three members who are part of Anbu—active or not—I’m damn honored that you’re a part of us now, Haruno-san. We’re honored that one of the Neo-Sannin can count herself among our ranks.”

Sakura smiled benignly, clasping her hands coyly behind her back after it was released. “I hope that wasn’t too stuffy or anything, Kamae-san. Spur of the moment battlefield speeches are more my thing,” she said with a teasing smile, tongue poked out. “I rehearsed that in front of my bathroom mirror and everything.” That was a lie, but a little white lie never hurt.

“Well, rehearsed or not, that was perfect. You’ll fit right in, and I promise you’ll be proud of the work we’re doing, Sakura-san. This is a new era, and we’re going to fight to bring peace in a way our forefathers would’ve never imagined. Now, why don’t you get your uniform and head on to the mask-maker? You’ll receive everything else on the way, but don’t hesitate to ask me or anyone else a question or ten, no matter how trivial you think it is. I’m more than happy to help.” His salesman’s pitch was sincere, Sakura unable to help but feel as though she’d believe it if it weren’t for the suspicions mounting against him.

“Thank you, Kamae-sama. I look forward to working with you as part of Anbu.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, not much in the way of worldbuilding in this chapter, except a few notes.
> 
> I think, the more as I've come to write Kamae, something I really want to try and convey is that he's not some comic book villain trying to destroy the world with a ray gun, or an authoritarian tyrant who wants free speech trashed and every dissident tortured to death in prison. He's exactly the kind of person we're seeing a lot more in this day and age, who could realistically show up at the family BBQ as a family friend while coaxing his way into making them xenophobic. While I think it's a line that can be a little difficult to establish, my hope is that it conveys to you all, as well.
> 
> Until the next chapter!


	15. Chapter 15

Warning(s): M, violence & gore, animal death

* * *

Night arrived like a black cloak that submerged the village in its darkness, the firmament of stars reminding her of precious gems that scintillated with a coldness, the darkness of the furthest end of Konoha providing a sweeping vista of the ghostly ivory belt of _Amanogawa_ , the stars and nebulae that populated the cosmos. Below, the lawns that swathed the expanses of the Uchiha manse’s inner courtyard framed the buildings beyond as distant shadows, obstructing little. From afar, the din of the festive village banished away the late summer serenity, even if the deafening chorus of cicadas and crickets drowned out even that in their lively contest to dominate the night. 

Lines of paper lanterns garlanded the air above them, spanning between perimeter walls, whilst delicate _toro_ lanterns floated on the expansive garden pond where the koi might be reposing. The verdant garden was otherwise blanketed in shadows, coronas of light offered only by their sources interspersed without, candle flame flickering in the gentle breezes. 

Madara perched on the manse’s encompassing veranda, expertly playing a kokyū with a practiced hand. Clad in a warm gold yukata, it contrasted to the vivid cherry blossom print that adorned Sakura’s, hair done up in a haphazard, stumpy twist due to how short hers was. Secured by glass kanzashi, she couldn’t help but lean dreamily against the engawa’s lip as he played. 

_“Nenneko shasshari mase,_

_Kyō wa nijūgo-nichi sa._

_Asu wa kono ko no,_

_Nenkororo, Miya-mairi._

_Nenkororon, nenkororon._

_“Miya e maitta toki,_

_Nan to yūte ogamu sa._

_Issho kono ko no,_

_Nenkororo, mame na yō ni._

_Nenkororon, nenkororon…”_

Madara’s voice drifted with a soft baritone in the limited space between them, rich and saturated with a nostalgia she couldn’t place. Though Sakura recognized it as a lullaby, it was nonetheless a fitting song for the deservedly festive night. At moments, the soft refrain of her own voice joined with his, which the Uchiha would notice with an appreciative quirk of his lips before being engrossed again the serene airs of his own making Sakura couldn’t help but bask in. 

“That was beautiful, Madara,” Sakura commented sincerely as he set the kokyū that had perched on his lap aside, soothing the slight wrinkles from his yukata. Leaning the bow against the instrument, he smirked a little to himself.

“So, I don’t sound like a yowling alley cat? My brother always said I did,” he quipped back with a crooked smile, eyes so soft and doe-like it made Sakura’s heart flutter to see him so genuinely happy. 

“If alley cats knew how to hold a note really well, sure. Me, on the other hand… I’m not entirely tone deaf, but I wouldn’t say I’m anywhere close to being some kind of virtuoso,” Sakura replied while making a comically tart grimace, giggling into her kimono sleeve modestly. While she spoke, Madara poured them both some sake in ochoko from its tokkuri, eyes glazed in a stew of thought.

It was Tanabata, the late summer festival that precluded the arrival of autumn. Normally, Sakura would have spent the night with her friends, but with preparations for her foray into Anbu knotting her gut, it didn’t feel right. That, and it was only the first night of what was a week-long festival, and she doubted her friends would object too strongly if she spent the first night with Madara… even if none of them even _knew_ he was alive. 

“I think our song contributed something good. It was supposed to rain tonight, but I don’t see a single cloud in the sky. Orihime and Hikoboshi won’t have to wait until next year to meet,” Madara idly observed, leaned against a post that supported the sweeping eaves of the roof that would have sheltered them if it had. 

Sakura lifted herself from the stone she’d been situated upon to sit near the Uchiha, legs gathered to her side whilst her hand supported her weight. The wide porcelain dishes that contained small candles housed in frosted glass perched on the engawa’s precipice cast modest plays of light over the pair, shadows crossing on the wall into a single morass. A restive air settled upon them like a shroud, peaceable despite the restlessness. 

“That’s good. It would suck if they couldn’t meet this year,” Sakura remarked obtusely, but a single look from Madara knew that the subject had drifted, something tugging on the kunoichi’s breast like claws embed in hide. Tomorrow she would be deployed, and she didn’t want to do it with regrets. Especially if something were to happen to her—

“Madara?”

“Hm?”

“There’s… something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I didn’t know when the right time would be, with the investigations and the clinic close to debuting…” Sakura trailed off with pursed lips, but she forced herself to match gazes with the Uchiha honestly. He was one of the only people that knew about the investigations outside of Ibiki and Santa, someone she might even broach upon calling a _friend_ —a comrade, if nothing else. “Hashirama’s alive. It’s not in the way you’d expect, but he’s been living in Shikkotsurin—”

“I know. I’ve always known.” Sakura didn't even bother to hide her shock, its static lingering as he continued. “Before the war, he made that clone to preserve his knowledge in case it might be imperative to. I don’t quite understand how he did it, but I’m the world’s best sensor, especially with Tobirama dead. I can sense someone’s lineage by the colors of their chakra aura, what kekkei genkai they might have, even what species they are. I knew he existed as well as the world didn’t know I’d survived our fateful encounter in that valley. And I know he’s been in that forest for nearly a century.”

Sakura nodded thoughtfully at his words. “Chakra Synesthesia,” the woman clarified, Madara watching her inquisitively. “Tsunade-shisō and I studied it a few years ago. The Sharingan, Byakugan, and most sensors can see people’s chakras as auras, like you described, and glean information from it.”

“That’s a fitting name for it,” he said tersely before he continued. “I take it that, since you know him, you’ve been training in Shikkotsurin in Sage Mode much like how Hashirama did almost a century ago? And why you suddenly went from not having kekkei genkai to three kekkei tōta in the span of a few… what was it? Weeks? Months? Something like that.”

It felt like a huge burden was lifted from Sakura’s shoulders as he not only summarized what she’d been doing under conscious knowledge, but wasn’t enraged by it. That alone slowed her racing heart, the shock of relief still stinging. 

“You know… I thought, if you’d discovered the truth, that you’d be pissed. Like I was tarnishing Hashirama’s legacy by trying to be some cheap imitation,” Sakura admitted guiltily, but owning as much soothe the clammy shock. Remembering there was sake to drink, she sipped hers, the warming fluid sluicing down her throat. “It’s ridiculous in hindsight, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not as irrational as you might think,” Madara replied idly, ochoko perched in hand as he drank some of his own. “However, that would only have been if you’d never undertaken what you are now, if we’d never gotten to know one another. But, by now… if anything, I’m relieved it’s you and not some village idiot trying to become some weapon.” His gaze drifted over the gardens swiftly populated by lazily dancing fireflies, their intermittent light rivaling the stars warmly. “I remember after we’d severed ties for the first time, that Hashirama didn’t have Wood Release before. When I awoke my Sharingan, I didn’t see it. But, when we met for a skirmish when we were a few years older, I did. A cloud of hunter green suspended in his aura with the rest of his chakra natures. I never understood how he got it, and he never dared to tell me. I wonder if he thought I’d try to destroy Shikkotsurin or something ridiculous.”

Madara scoffed dryly, bitterly. Sakura looked away, teeth gnawing on the inside of her cheek pensively. “But, you’re here. You can tell me, can’t you? Since we’re being so honest with each other now.” His charcoal eyes were intent upon her, and she obliged. No secrets, no fabrications. 

“It’s something called Onmyōdō—or, In’yōdō. It’s ancient senjutsu that’s a precursor to the chakra fruit that would eventually spread chakra through the world by the Sage of Six Paths. Katsuyu-sama knows a technique that lets her see into people’s chakra auras and unlock kekkei tōta from them. I don’t really remember the mechanics, specifically, but what I do know is that Hashirama-sama and I got our kekkei tōta the same way,” Sakura explained, the hand on her lap raised before her as she absently manifested slim tendrils of Bloom Release that twined her digits with delicate cherry blossoms that pulsed, Madara mesmerized by their glow. Outside of Shikkotsurin, she’d never noticed their cloudy aura before.

“Wood Release?” Madara quipped, transfixed. Sakura shook her head.

“It’s similar, and we did get them in the same way, but it’s not. I call it Bloom Release and it’s specific to me, if that makes sense, kinda like Hashirama’s Wood Release is so… _him_.” Though she wasn’t sure if she explained it correctly, he seemed to understand as he took another sip of his sake. But as her winded explanation seemed to end, she couldn’t help but flood with relief that it had gone well. 

“Does Hashirama know I’m alive?” That question startled the kunoichi, the break of concentration wilting the summoned bloom. 

Grasping for answers like straws, she couldn’t help but blush slightly in mortification. “Um… it was more like I shouted at him that you are,” she admitted sheepishly with a worried grimace. 

Madara’s eyebrows shot up at that, smirking wryly. “You _shouted_ that at him?”

Sakura’s lips pursed in defeat, flushing indignantly. “Well, he’s basically Captain Konoha, and I’m the person with a huge bucket of ice cold water taking shots at the Will of Fire, so yeah! Um… our past few encounters have been pretty tense, but we worked through them. I _think_ —”

The Uchiha’s eyes lit with mirth as he smiled impishly into his ochoko, polishing the spirits off. “You continue to surprise me in the strangest ways, Sakura.” His chuckle was warm, without tensity. “I find it heartening that you defended what you’re doing to the likes of him. I imagine it must be a shock, considering that he was born in a very patriotic chapter in Konoha’s history. I wonder what he thought about how his failures resulted in my clan being butchered.”

That sobered the lightened mood like a dash of cold water, as if the metaphorical one Sakura wielded had taken aim at them instead. Sakura felt a cold stab in her gut mingle sickly with the sake that warmed her, hands clasped on her lap. 

“He… took them hard. It’s been five months since I’ve seen him, and I don’t know what happened,” she admitted with a tint of shame that Madara chuffed sourly at. 

“What you’re doing is far more important. He’s lived there for over a century, and I’m certain he comes and goes in his little fishbowl of ignorance. For someone with as much guilt as he has, he certainly never bothered to do anything about it except wallow in self-pity. I wonder what selfish bullshit he uses as an excuse as to why he never rectified what he did wrong, death be damned.”

It was the same between them, wasn’t it? Two men with enormous amounts of guilt between them, dished to each other and the world? Two souls bound together through a cycle Sakura wasn’t sure she could ever really understand. Why it made her feel so small and hollow, she didn’t know. Like it wasn’t any different from her youth when she’d helplessly watched Naruto and Sasuke violently clash after Orochimaru’s invasion. Running towards them, heedless of what would happen, knowing there was nothing she could do except get in the way.

“But… he was important to you, wasn’t he? And even that small part of him still alive was a comfort, kinda?” she broached despite the growing pit that hollowed out her gut. Her smile was wan, disconsolate despite how she tried to appear casual.

Madara’s bangs draped over his eyes concealed all but the neutral line of his mouth in profile. “I loved him, long ago. Part of me still does, I think. For everything wrong he did to my clan and I, there’s a shape in my heart only he can fill.”

Sakura didn’t know why this revelation felt like a punch to the gut, but it did. That growing extreme of smallness widened into a gulf until it seemed like they were much further apart than they were. It shouldn’t have surprised her. For how much she knew about Madara in the many talks they’d had thus far, she only knew as much as he wished to tell her, exactly as it was meant to be. Why this wracked her so much, she wished she could say. It was cold in how small it made her feel. 

“Madara, I’m not saying this as whatever authority figure I’ve been to you these past several months, and I know it’s too presumptuous to call myself your friend, but… I hope someday you two can reconcile everything wrong that happened. I won’t pretend to imagine what it could be like, or think it could be forgiven that easily, but I think it could make you happier. At peace, maybe.” Sakura quirked a small smile at him, recovered from whatever daze her own idiotic heart had sent her in. 

Madara turned incrementally towards her before facing the kunoichi fully, a winsome, nostalgic smile flitting to his features. “This might have little to do with that, but in my day, men who engaged in relations with other men tended to be depicted with furisode sleeves as a signifier of this. Well, as it so happened, I was quite… _free_ in my affections as a younger man, to men and women alike. As a result, it wasn’t unusual for my depictions to feature such sleeves, like my likeness at the Valley of the End. Ah, I stopped when I was older, but I never objected to it. After all, who could raise a foul word against me? I was too powerful.”

Though Sakura wasn’t sure if he had intentionally steered the subject elsewhere on her behalf, the kunoichi barely bit back a giggle on her tongue. Madara grinned receptively at her brightened reaction, chuckling with her. “Seriously? Talk about nerves of steel! Must be nice, being too powerful for people to talk crap about,” she sobered with a sip of a refilled ochoko, feeling relaxed. 

Madara shifted to lean a little lazily against the post, legs draped over and crossed at the ankles. He clasped his hands languidly on his stomach, sighing contently. “You are right, though. Maybe someday Hashirama and I can come to some sort of resolution. I don’t know how, but someday. I’m not sure I could live in this age peacefully without one.” 

A brief, pregnant pause came between them filled by the vastness of chirruping insects, an awareness of space dawning silently on them both. Of contentment, a hearth fire that flickered and wavered at the force of an uncertain wind. 

“Sakura.” The address of her name was like a beckon in the dark. “Could you grow one of your trees somewhere here in the garden? There’s something I want to do.”

Mystified but obliging, Sakura made the requisite hand seal and appointed its growth to a grassy, unoccupied plot not far from where they sat in the garden. In a flourish, the black-barked tree with its glowing profusion of blossoms claimed the space, pulsating blue beating like a heart. With a puckish smirk did Madara rise from his seat and prompt Sakura to follow with a nod, the kunoichi compliant but curiously in tow. Leading to it, he stopped and produced a kunai from his yukata’s lapel, the woman hovering at his side.

Taking the point of the blade to the bark, Madara carved a single stroke experimentally, a sound of satisfaction hummed at the discovery that the flesh beneath wholly illuminated like a strip of light. Continuing with his work, he carved out the lower half of the Uchiha’s uchiwan emblem, fleshing out its shape. However, the lower part was dished inwards, and the reason became clear as above it, the petals of a cherry blossom bloomed from his whittling until it was complete. Madara stepped back to allow Sakura a proper view, suddenly glad that the garden was lost in the pitch of night. 

She looked to him for an explanation, a pleasant surprise written on her face. “This will be the symbol of our bond. Our alliance, our friendship. Come what may, nothing will ever change that,” he explained proudly, Sakura feeling elated from what it symbolized. Regardless of what she’d felt just moments ago, this felt like another bridge had been crossed into another land. A place where they could be honest and free without worry.

“It’s beautiful, Madara. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

He smiled to himself, basked in the glow of the tree’s luminosity. “You’ve got a great journey ahead of you. You’ve done more than anyone has in generations for my clan, Sakura. I’ll always remember what you’ve done. Always.”

Whatever the future held in store, Sakura knew she was ready.

* * *

Morning came before it was light, when the sun was still cradled in another sky and had yet to light this waiting pyre. Sakura showered, prepared breakfast, and changed into the newly and specially tailored uniform commissioned for this new chapter of her life. 

The months after the war had led to several branches of Konoha’s government transfiguring their regulations and restructuring their operations, and Anbu was but one of many. The outfits that had once been a regulated staple of their ranks had given some leeway to allow customization and a degree of individuality, not unlike the standard shinobi. Though it was likely a hallmark of Anbu’s reformed mission as the Hokage’s peacekeeping paramilitary force, as an organization for the greater good, Sakura sensed otherwise. 

She availed herself in the lone, full-body mirror in her bunker’s locker room, motes of steam and humidity clinging from the recently finished shower. Though the baggy slate trousers and gray flak jacket were a given, paired with it did Sakura wear a knee-length protective leather sarong of a gunmetal green about her waist. Instead of the bicep-high black gloves, a sleeve of kevlar and steel-reinforced protection encased the whole of her arms, parted by the sleeveless gray gloves she otherwise wore. Atop that, she donned Anbu’s typical black mantle with a specially outfitted, starched hood that descended low to the bridge of her nose, goggle lenses affixed at the level of her eyes with scarlet lens that acted as her mask. Over the flak jacket but beneath the mantle, Sakura donned a padded sage green gorget with attached pauldrons, providing extra protection.

With the hood raised over her eyes, the goggle lenses seemed to glow of their own accord in the darkness, the two pairs an accent that bespoke her chosen code name: _Mukade_ , the centipede. Of all the aliases she could’ve chosen, while it was the most outlandish, it suited her best. For over half a year, Sakura had transformed, and that was undeniable. But, instead of being a slug like Tsunade, she’d become a centipede; a corruption of the name that had changed, lying in the shadows to twist and warp an enemy’s mind. 

She wasn’t Tsunade no. 2 any longer. She was someone different, who had more than just medical ninjutsu and super strength her teacher had passed on to her. As a true teacher should, she’d taken what had been taught her and molded it into something uniquely her own. 

Lips the only facial feature spared by her new ensemble, Sakura clipped her thumb by her canine and drew blood, inscribing the mark on her palm before summoning her newest—and admittedly neglected—summon, Ōmukade.

The titanic daikaijū that could ultimately reach limits enough to constrict the largest mountains was no larger than a four foot long serpent at most, suitable for their purposes that day. The centipede’s beady red eyes glittered in the low light, pulses of titian light accenting its segmented form. 

_And here I thought you would never honor the terms of our contract, girl,_ Ōmukade mused as Sakura squatted to sit on her haunches, smiling wryly at it. It skittered her frame to coil over a shoulder and under the opposite arm like a bandoleer, antennae scenting the air from where its head perched on her shoulder. 

“What, you don’t have any faith in me, Ōmu-kun?” Sakura pouted teasingly. “You’re going to be seeing a lot of the world today, so don’t worry. You might even get more than you bargained for.”

_Hm, as long as you don’t spit on me, it’s fine. Let’s just get out of this hole._

Sakura didn’t need further encouragement before she swiftly navigated her way from the bunker, a wordless phantom that slipped into the morning that was just barely waking. Her travel to the Anbu Headquarters was swift, a sense of freedom and the niggling fact that Madara likely knew she was bounding across the village ceased the moment she finally found the secreted entrance to the HQ. 

What had been a bastion of new promise contained the ire of the age before, the bright atrium and concourse following dimmed from its day-bright introduction from days ago. The place that had welcomed her so warmly was but an echo, a distant ghost to the facade it had donned.

Yet, it wasn’t completely devoid of activity. Anbu agents strode as though they were phantoms inhabiting another plane, all donned in masks, some in mantles and capes like herself whom were hooded, but even so hers stood apart and perhaps not entirely for the better. Ōmukade’s beady eyes flashed when the tactless stared for too long, the centipede a source for nervous avoidance. Not that Sakura minded; being ogled at wasn’t on her agenda. 

Through a corridor banked from the thoroughfare of the concourse following the offices that lined the administrative arcade seemed the body of Anbu’s operations, a mere room number was the indication of where she was to begin the first leg of her machinations against Root. 

The spartan corridor contained identical white doors with black and white placards, Sakura’s gaze following them through the scarlet tint of her goggles until she came to the right room number and let herself inside. 

The interior was a nondescript clash of a locker and break room, a few chairs situated against a wall with a lamp perched on a small table, blank tile lining the floor whilst three lockers occupied a corner of their own. It was undoubtedly small and hardly homey, but she doubted that was its point. 

Two women with identically long purple hair that extended to their waists and mirrored cat-motif porcelain masks were differentiated only by the red and black markings between them. Else, they might have been twins, but she doubted that would remain the case once they took their masks off. Closing the door politely behind her, both women glanced at her.

“Sakura-chan?” Yūgao’s distinct voice greeted as she pulled back her mask to rest atop her head, warm brown eyes lit in recognition as her painted lips spread apart in a smile. “It’s you! I had no idea you were the new recruit!” She rose to pat Sakura on the shoulder, the younger kunoichi similarly drawing back her hood. 

“Hey, Yūgao-san. How have you been since then?” she reciprocated, smile just as warm and glad to see a familiar face. Years ago, before the three year duration had concluded, her lover and kenjutsu teacher, Hayate, had perished during the Konoha Crush like many other Leaf-nin had. Sakura had managed to befriend the woman and speak with her, encouraging her from retirement. Though, the memory sat with uncertain bitterness in her throat those days, knowing what she did now.

“I’ve been doing much better, thanks to you, Sakura-chan,” Yūgao replied with her smile sobered, expression still pleasant. 

“So, you’re the one I’ve heard so much about from the war? Who punched that alien in the face?” The woman still masked motioned to remove hers at once, dark onyx eyes making a brief study of their junior before she rose herself, unadorned lips kept in a level line. “My name’s Gazeru. You might not know me, but that hardly matters.”

Sakura felt a little self-conscious, admittedly. “Gazeru-san, I’m happy to meet you. My name is Sakura Haruno,” she introduced with a formal bow that Gazeru met with expressionless indifference. She doubted the other woman meant anything by it, likely just in her personality to not be as warm and receptive as Yūgao or herself. That, or she was too used to being around those whom were as extroverted as she tended to be. 

“We’re going to comprise a new Team Seirei, and I’ll be our team captain. We’ve already gotten our first mission briefing, which I’ll have to go over in a second,” Yūgao explained to Sakura who was very much a journeyman between the three of them. “Chief Kamae drafts and distributes missions himself to circulate through the ranks.”

Sakura took a pause at that. Her subconscious stilled in apparent suspicion, but she knew better than to let even a hint of it in her body language before two highly trained Anbu agents. “Did they change it? Tsunade-shisō mentioned something about streamlining it, but I didn’t really get the memo,” she admitted with a quirk of her lips. “Everything’s been in this huge jumble since the war ended.”

“The chain of command was altered. We still ultimately answer to the Hokage, but Kamae-sama took the helm of Anbu recently when it became clear that they needed to clear up the hierarchy of demands placed on the Hokage. All the branches of the village did it recently, and the results are better. At least, that’s what a recent quarterly report told us,” Gazeru explained with her arms folded, foot propped against the wall she leaned upon. “Regardless, he’s Anbu Chief across the board.”

 _A grab for power,_ Sakura surmised in her mind. Her conceded smile was genuine as it could be; Ibiki had helped mold her into a fine actress where she hadn’t been before. “That makes sense. It’s only been almost a year, but I feel like I was asleep under a rock,” she giggled gaily. 

_It makes it easy for himself, doesn’t it?_ Ōmukade replied, the only one who could between them three. _Hah, you humans intrigue me. Maybe it’s good you waited. Things are only just going to get more exciting from here, aren’t they?_

“I see. So, we report to Chief Kamae for things? Got it. Anyway, why don’t we go over that mission?”

* * *

They would leave before the sunrise when the village was beginning to wake up, the opportune moment for agents like themselves. Through tunnels that wormed labyrinthine beneath the village, to the east against the rays of the sun, it was towards the Land of Rivers that they were primed to travel. Through forests and grassy plains that they raced at a breakneck speed, bounding in a thoughtless charge that proved an ideal time for Sakura to think as her partners weren’t most conversational when their masks were donned. Neither was she, and she was fine for it. 

The mission outline was relatively simple, yet vague in a way she suspected was intentional. They were to conduct a peacekeeping watch of the towns of Takumi Village, Tanigakure, and the Katabami Gold Mine that were major economic epicenters of the river country. 

Sakura knew something was wrong. Something she ‘spoke’ at length with Ōmukade over who had remained strung on her person since it’d claimed her that very morning. Their telepathic conversations might have proven to be an irritant earlier, but she couldn’t be more grateful for them in hindsight.

It would be a day and half before their blitz through the quiet and sparsely peopled countryside ushered grassy prairies and miles of forests away from their neighbor entrenched in jungles and muddy byways that traveled through swamps and bayous, where their trek would slow enough for the three women to want to walk to recover some of their stamina. 

On the muddy embankment that was flanked with reeds that descended into the swamp, towering kahikatea and bald cypresses looming on their bases of tubed roots supporting them on thick struts while their foliage hung with boas of pale Spanish moss grew in unruly, cascading tendrils. Lakes of stagnant bog water were hotbeds of mosquitoes and rampant algae thick enough to choke the sunlight from the lake bed. Sunlight filtered marginally through the thick emerald canopy, any breeze stifled from the dense growth of the forest that encompassed them.

Sakura’s soles created wet suction with every stride, the leather sheaths protecting her calves caked with mud and grime. She was glad to have opted for wearing boots instead of sandals if her guesses of the faint noises of disgust from Yūgao were anything to go by. The air was congested with the chorus of the marshes, of a dominantly insect variety. Gratefully, and perhaps oddly, the boggy, humid and stagnant heat that could be oppressive to her comrades felt mild compared to Shikkotsurin’s brutal humidity and temperatures, something the kunoichi reflected on fondly. 

“How are you holding up, Tsukihana?” Sakura called ahead to Yūgao who was leading them, referring to her code name. The squelch of their soles seemed eager to answer for them as they proceeded on the meandering path. 

“Well enough. It’s only another mile and a half until we get to the town, Mukade,” Yūgao answered Sakura, the muffled sound of a folded map being stashed away heard. 

“Any more of this and I think my tantō might just rust inside its sheath,” Gazeru groused as she gingerly drew her short katana experimentally, puffing a sigh as she sheathed it again. 

“Hang on,” Sakura stated abruptly as she halted her advance, enough for her teammates to do the same. She listened carefully before she swiftly gestured above, all three of them leaping aloft when the sound of a small motorcade barreled upon the uneasy pathway, clearly not designed to accommodate the enormous, matted print flatbed freighters hauled by massive beasts of burden that lowed as they drove on the muddy path. The oxen were the size of two men at the shoulder, hides lathered with sweat. The freighters themselves were encumbered with cargo held fast by soiled, muddy cream tarps and fraying rope. 

From their vantage point, huddled in the mighty boughs of a towering tree swaying with willow branches and thick with Spanish moss, it provided a fitting place to conceal themselves.

The braying of the towering oxen and their following bellows indicated they were right above the muddy pathway. The frustrated cracks of a whip sounded when one refused to move, halting the progress of the column. The driver growled in frustration from what Sakura could hear, craning in close while they swore at the beasts.

“Fuckin’ useless shits,” the disgruntled driver swore as he half-heartedly inspected the road itself before hocking a loogie into the marsh that was too densely stagnant to even ripple. Climbing back into the driver’s seat, he jostled the reins and cracked the whip that managed to gain a few steps before an air of dread caused Sakura’s hackles to raise, grip tightened on the interwoven branches. 

A mighty, frothing wave surged from the marsh’s depths and rolled over the narrow road as a crocodilian reptile partly coated in the residue of algae unhinged its maw in the momentum of its spring and clamped brutally on the ox’s throat in the confusion of its ambush, the beast uttering a helpless bellow before the reptile bounded over the road in a high, spraying arc and dragged it, the driver, and the freight into the depths of the swamp in the vice of its maw.

Yūgao and Gazeru watched in mute horror as the crocodilian wrestled its prey in the churning waters, a flurry of splashing bilge water and flailing limbs, the arch of the crocodile’s spine as it worked to submerge the bovine beneath the waters flashing in their wrestle for survival. The chaos of the struggle saw the men of the troupe erupt into a panic as they drove their oxen into a frenzy, stampeding down the stretch of meandering road as the crocodile and its prey were struggling still in the swamp itself. 

“Mukade, should we do something?” Yūgao hissed over the stampeding line of freighters and oxen, the column soon rushing past them in a breezy wake while the crocodile continued to maul its prey, the staccato of the retreating troupe thundering enough that birds in the canopy flew with startled cries as they beat their wings to become airborne. 

“There is something I can do, but please stay here,” Sakura replied back, both women wordless but the kunoichi able to take their silence as trust. Even Yūgao, as their captain, had faith in her and it bolstered her resolve.

Thankfully, something Sakura had developed over the last several months was to accrue natural energies and store enough to invoke sage mode. With her sage chakra regulation being honed to its peak, she was able to house sage chakra by a continuous cycle of intake, molding, and emission, ensuring that she never turned to stone. As denoted by the Cherry Blossom Seal on her cusp, she’d also learned how to store sage chakra in the type of seal she’d developed as a child and integrate it into the regulation so that the stored sage chakra wouldn’t stagnate and petrify her. Something only possible from her extremely fine chakra control.

Invoking Incomplete Sage Mode, Sakura’s body hissed as it became coated in Acid Body, its mist singing the air as Gazeru and Yūgao shuffled away from its stench. The kunoichi then leapt on to the open air, halted on a bed of it that drew incredulous reactions from her teammates. From there, she made a quick scan of the turbulent waters and discovered the driver had managed to dog paddle away, heaving himself on the opposite shore.

While she might have normally charged into the fray and rendered the crocodile unconscious, there was no need. Aside from that, she doubted it’d provide much challenge; the kaijū of Shikkotsurin had spoiled her for other enormous beasts to battle, feeling boring in comparison. 

Sakura raced the perimeter on the air, then withdrawing sage mode in a slow, acidic hiss, her outline lingering as she dropped to the ground. Landing firmly on the muddy, mossy earth, the man wheezed loudly enough for her to find. 

_Ōmu, would you like to do the honors?_

Ōmukade’s eyes flashed wickedly as it uncoiled and skittered down Sakura’s frame to move with surprising speed to overtake the man who screamed in panic. 

Twisting like a snake did it bind him, his caterwauling muffled and silenced as Ōmukade’s mandibles clamped on his skull and rendered him unconscious in barely a second, prone to its mercy. 

Able to control minds, it subsequently possessed mind-probing abilities as keen as any Yamanaka’s. Once satisfied by what it found, Ōmukade replaced itself on Sakura’s body with its head perched on her shoulder. The driver, meanwhile, was left unconscious by the bog. 

_I found out what we needed to. Can I eat him once I relay it?_ Ōmukade quipped, practically salivating at the thought.

Sakura winced, remembering its proclivities. _No, Ōmu-kun, no… Just tell me what I need to know and you can have the slain oxen to eat, okay?_

Ōmukade huffed disdainfully in her mind. _Very well. It’s always satisfying to steal another’s prey, anyways. In any case, those men aren’t up to anything good. They’re ferrying illegal contraband and drugs into the Land of Rivers for some reason, but this man is too lowly to have been told why. But if they’re traveling the road this brazenly, I’m sure you suspect the same thing I do._

As Ōmukade descended her form and grew on the shore before passing into the water, Sakura’s gaze glazed over in thought. Even if Kamae’s possible machinations weren’t at play, it was evidence of something just as sinister; with the spike in missing-nin from every nation following the war, crime had grown at an unprecedented rate. So much so that every small country and even the Great Five were taxed to their limits dealing with the explosively rampant criminal activity. The only places truly spared were the main five hidden villages and the country’s capitals that had beefed security to levels unseen since the former three Shinobi World Wars. 

“This isn’t good,” Sakura murmured to herself as Ōmukade all but severed the massive oxen in half with its massive mandibles, the crocodile too cowed to retaliate as it happily consumed the remains, larger than even the reptilian. “No wonder Kamae became acclaimed so quickly, but something has to be done.”

Racing across the water instead of the air, the chaos largely quelled, she returned to Yūgao and Gazeru who had since returned to the road again.

Their work was truly cut out for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, here we are with Sakura's first real foray as a member of Anbu!
> 
> Firstly, regarding Madara's disaster bi-ness and the furisode, but it's based on this [fun little theory](https://hsmdosed.tumblr.com/post/625028422745423872/hashirama-and-madaras-clothing-on-the-valley-of) that speculates the sleeves on Mada's VoTE statue bearing significance, I took it in a slightly different direction. Personally, my own portrayal of Madara encompasses him being a fairly androgynous character who dances the line between masculinity and femininity with no care for gender roles. That, and him being a disaster Bi has always been a preference of mine, hue--
> 
> Secondly, for those wondering fully what Sakura's outfit looks like, [look no further!](https://shikkotsunin.tumblr.com/image/628789324269387777) I had loads of fun designing her outfit, which brings me to the next point.
> 
> While I did briefly mention this back in chapter 7, not only as a summon, but Sakura's 'evolution' from a slug to centipede is something very deliberate and intentional. While I did give some insight to this back roughly in chapter 2 or 3, I never really agreed with the idea of Sakura surpassing Tsunade simply because I don't think she did, canonly. Now, what I do believe is that Sakura 100% is the world's strongest med-nin and absolutely soared past Tsunade ala powerscaling and ability as a med-nin. However, I don't agree that it's enough. What I want for her, instead, is to be Tsunade's _equal_. What will gradually be explored is the idea of Sakura working doggedly to conceive of a revolution in the medical field with psychology much in the way Tsunade did with med-nin. It won't be at once, but like Tsunade, she'll work her ass off to initiate real and palpable change.
> 
> Because of this, I style Sakura not as a slug, but as a centipede. Like in the game [Sansukumi-ken](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sansukumi-ken) the original Sannin are based off that Team 7 become as the Neo-Sannin, the centipede is a mistaken subversion of the slug; while the slug scares snakes, the centipede hunts them _and_ dragons which I think fits Sakura's evolution she's undergoing. And as centipedes can 'climb in and kill a snake by entering its head', I think it befits Sakura more given how she's taken a bent towards psychology than just physical health. And in this way, being equal but different from Tsunade herself. Hence why Sakura has [Omukade](http://yokai.com/oomukade/) as a new summon.
> 
> As for the little things, [Gazeru](https://naruto.fandom.com/wiki/Gazeru) is a canon but minor Anbu agent I thought would be cool to include alongside Yugao. 
> 
> Their team name, Team Seirei, derives from [a type of Japanese ghost.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ikiry%C5%8D)
> 
> The Cherry Blossom Seal [is also a canon thing!](https://amitds.tumblr.com/post/617942387718815744) I see it as a lesser-powered Yin Seal that's worked like the Byakugo. How Sakura made it is something I explored in _Joy, Shining, Blooming_.
> 
> Other than that, I hope you're all looking forward to what's in store!


	16. Chapter 16

Warning(s): T, human trafficking

* * *

Their journey to Takumi wasn’t without its scores of petty thieves and con men that frequented roadside pit stops like flies and maggots to a corpse, but being Anbu, they were able to avoid most of them. Where Sakura was concerned, she gladly exploited her talent with genjutsu by sending such people on their way, altering their minds just enough that all notions of continuing what they were would cease. Even if the kunoichi understood why they did it, of how a world in turmoil meant many people were turning to crime as their only form of sustenance. Ōmukade suggested eating them to put them out of their misery, which earned only a sour frown of disapproval from the summoner. 

“Looks like we’re here,” Gazeru quipped as they’d since transitioned from marshlands to a loosely wooded forest dense with prairie grasses tugged by a sweetly cool breeze. 

The stone-faced outcropping crowned with a cascade of trees and turf slid down a slope that yielded a plunging river valley cleaved by a meandering river and richly forested vicinity with densely green vegetation. From the high cliffs that rose to the heavens to cradle the lush valley did the woody brown of thatched roofs and the odd adobe shingles in their muddy texture stand pronounced in the small, artisan village that straddled across the banks of the wide river. Even from afar, the smoky plumes blown apart by low gales and the placid trek of peoples to and from the village on dusty roads underscored its daily activity. 

Yet, she knew better than to think foreign shinobi like them were welcome. Even before the Great War, Takumi had historically been one of the chief makers of ninja tools as far back as the Founders’ Era, occasionally strafed by immense conflict until they’d made an alliance with the Uchiha a few generations before Madara’s time. But, as many things did, the Uchiha’s joining the village meant they had little reason to continue the alliance that had been fading away for many reasons. Even renegotiating terms to benefit Konoha yielded little when they could produce their own armaments. 

They had been in decline for generations, only with the Great War being the largest nail in the coffin lid. With them struggling so heavily, Sakura could easily see why criminal activity might be the only solution these people had from the larger villages too preoccupied with their own revitalization and increasing isolation.

“We need to be on the lookout. Aside from the people we’re trailing, Tanigakure shinobi have been sighted in the village, and they’re not up to anything good,” Yūgao warned both women, the heat of her gaze potent through even her porcelain mask.

“Tani-nin? Do you think they’re involved somehow?” Sakura broached, sunlight glaring from the four red lenses of her hood. She’d read something similar from their mission debriefing, but the details had been left purposefully scarce. Part of their job was to discover as much, and even then there were holes in her knowledge of the territory. 

“Beyond a shadow of a doubt. You’re something of a greenhorn, Mukade, so I’ll tell you this: this is commonplace. Regardless of whatever you were taught in the Academy, smaller countries like the Land of Rivers have been living with this for years. Smaller hidden villages like Tanigakure operate more like cartels when they can’t squeeze as much money for things like security, so they threaten violence instead. And with the criminal element already there, hn—well, they fall into the same bed rather comfortably,” Gazeru explained with a gristle in her voice, tsking audibly. 

“Basically, what you’re saying is that Tanigakure and these thugs have Takumi in some kind of bind they can’t get out of? And our mission is to sort it out,” Sakura affirmed to Yūgao and Gazeru, both women nodding in affirmation. 

Even with that much cleared up, Sakura’s gaze passed over the village like a diorama from above, eyes narrowed at the impetus this would present. In doing this, she knew she had to simultaneously complete the mission perfectly whilst investigating whatever claims she might find that could implicate Kamae. Part of her thought that giving herself some berth between her ultimate objective and the mission’s fulfillment could be compartmentalized, to use this as a kind of proving ground to get her feet wet, but she thought better against it. She didn’t know how much time she had, let alone if she’d have a mission as cookie-cutter to find evidence than this.

“We can’t go into the village dressed as we are,” Yūgao instructed, turning towards her partners. “Mukade, I want you to investigate anything regarding the Tani-nin whilst Getto and I will begin looking into the criminals occupying the village. Remember: use henge to disguise any notable features and use an alias. Send messages where you can, otherwise I’ll devise a meeting place in a day or two.”

“Got it, Tsukihana-taichō!” Sakura chirped in affirmation before the three of them split up and descended into the valley proper.

* * *

Hana was a dense pseudonym, she knew, but it somehow just _worked_. 

If there was something she could fall back on, however, was that even if a sensor did see her chakra aura and was knowledgeable enough to piece together where her heritage originated, a Moon Country native wandering her way through the artisan village wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. The lack of a feasible surname, too, wouldn’t draw much suspicion since many people lacked one, too. With her hair transformed to a shade of muddy brown and her eyes a dark hazel, drawn into a stumpy pigtail, Sakura looked none the wiser in her plain, cherry-hued kimono tunic and ¾ pants and leather thongs. 

Just another country bumpkin there to make nice with the locals and nab a few souvenirs. 

Ōmukade itself had shrunk to an even smaller size, becoming the hair tie with a beaded texture none would detect. Though the summon preferred being slightly larger, a concession was made that being worn like a bandoleer would make them too suspect. 

Stalwart, rustic buildings lined the streets stiffly, as if a regiment of soldiers waited for some bleak report of casualties on the vanguard. It had been soft, once. With character and memories of people long past, but Sakura didn’t see that now. It was as if she were a fly trekking the length of a spine through a sun-bleached rib cage picked clean by carrion birds. People with faces in varying states of listlessness trudged through the village’s dusty streets, caulked in mud and dust that coated them as familiarly as skin. 

Sakura strode through inquisitively, taking her first to an izakaya that was often the best place to begin with reconnaissance. The watering hole of any village of town was where the buzzed and drunk gathered, tight-lipped guard loosened enough that gossip became strands enough to twine into threads that gradually led to a larger tapestry. 

“Miss, can you help me? Please!” Sakura pivoted the moment she was addressed, a boy with moppy black hair and tear-streaked face bolted towards her, clutching on the hem of her tunic. “It’s mama! She just— she collapsed all of a sudden!”

As much as Sakura wouldn’t ever dream of rejecting such a plea for help, the possibility lurked in the back of her mind: this boy could be a lure, the scenario the bait, and it could reveal to be more perilous than she believed.

“Hey, try and take a deep breath, okay? Take me to her,” Sakura instructed firmly as she placed a steadying hand on the boy’s shoulder, sympathy evident through the firmness. Even though she technically wasn’t playing the medic here, it was impossible to smother that instinct.

The boy nodded and bit his chapped lip, small hand taking hers as they raced through a dirty alleyway until Sakura felt the sudden sting of a barb dug in her neck. _Ōmu, make an incision!_ she thought in the brief window of time she had, as swift as an exit wound of a fired bullet, the centipede increasing its length briefly to snag its mandibles in her flesh in the time it took for the ground to rush to meet her.

Sakura’s body dropped like a dead weight, but her mind was conscious enough to know that whatever tranquilizer had been utilized on her was weaker than the grades Tsunade had trained her to learn to resist and foil. Enough that she could maintain her captors’ fallacy of their supremacy, but not so much that they could suspect her advantage.

A burly, grisled man with his thinning, greasy black hair tied into a topknot loomed over her, broken teeth bared as he grinned over her deceptively prone form. “Damn, not every day y’find a pretty one,” he quipped appreciatively to himself before squatting to maneuver Sakura’s body over his shoulder like a potato sack. 

“Yuri,” the man addressed the boy briefly, tossing what appeared to be a few ryō worth in coinage at him, caught easily. “Keep scoutin’. Should make the quota by the end of the week if ya continue at this pace.” The boy, Yuri, nodded and avoided the burly man’s gaze to scamper into the street, a sympathetic look cast over his shoulder at Sakura who feigned unconsciousness. “Now, t’get to base…”

Sakura’s body swayed with his brisk pace, but she was by no means willing to go willingly. As the position she was in made it impossible to see, through the incision made by the dart and Ōmukade did she begin use of the Delicate Illness Extraction Technique. It was something only possible through her extremely honed chakra control, but necessary to regain movement. Accumulating the needed substance through water vapors ambient in the air, small beads of water accumulated near the wound site equivalent to the minute traces still in her system. 

When enough water had been amassed in large pearls, imbibing them with healing chakra did she let them into her circulatory system to travel her body, searching for the toxins to nullify them and expel them through the exit wound. Though she normally completed this process in a matter of minutes, with a reduced quantity of liquid and still as much volume of her body to traverse it took longer, but the contents eventually wound up as stains on the dusty pathways in their wake.

Experimentally, Sakura clenched and flexed her hands into fists, testing her own range of movement in a way that wouldn’t give it away to her captor what she was trying to do. Inopportune as it was, Sakura maintained her state of as feigned unconsciousness. For better or worse, it was far better than parking her butt in a tavern and waiting for something to come along.

Startlingly, Sakura noticed, was the fact that passersby were hardly even bothered by the sight of an abduction in broad daylight. Some glanced up and shook their heads, but if the man was anything to go by, she assumed he or his cartel were too powerful to object to openly. It was something to take into account, as it alone spoke of the power he, at least, wielded.

As Sakura kept her eyes firmly shut aside from the occasional glimpse, the juddering clangor of a roll-up entryway sounded at the indication of entering into a new space, the noisy sound of closure finalized by a slam indicated that this was new territory for certain. 

Her captor grunted as he squatted and deposited Sakura on a cold, concrete floor before leaving her behind, the pitched whine of hinges piercing before the slam of a metallic door and the muffled fiddling of a lock was the last she heard, knowing she was well and truly trapped.

As far as they were concerned, at least.

When a good minute had passed, Sakura gathered her arms beneath her and squatted, surveying the room she was in. Though the gnarled concrete floor and blank whitewash of the stucco walls were a given, it appeared as though it had been outfitted for prisoners such as herself. A few crates lined the wall with bags packed with hay acted as a mattress, masses of tarp for blankets, while a bucket was the apparent latrine. A small, industrial sink seemed the source of water while a sawed opening in the bottom of the door was where food was delivered.

“Talk about homey,” Sakura quipped to herself sourly as she felt Ōmukade skittering to the ground from her back, increasing its size to that of a small house cat. Its feelers excitedly sampled the air, Sakura able to sense its mischief.

 _It seems you’re in the belly of the beast, hm?_ Ōmukade hummed which elicited a wry smirk from the kunoichi. 

“Something like that. Still, I think I know where to start.” Though the Third Eye Gate was effective in acting as a perceptive radar in gleaning a mind’s eye view of the vicinity, it wasn’t enough to actually _see_. 

As a few minutes passed and she gained enough sage chakra to perform the requisite senjutsu, Sakura wove through the necessary hand seals and held out her open palm from her body, concentrating whilst casting. 

_Sage Art: Slug Great Division_

Unlike what the name suggested, she needn’t necessarily split apart wholly. From her palm did a slug roughly the size of her fist descend and slap wetly to the ground, the Acid Body that manifested from the rudimentary Slug Sage Mode she invoked dissipating in a rolling mote of steam from her figure. Even so, her eyes remained closed, phasing to the maroon accents that encompassed her eyes to her temples. 

Her sight moved from her corporeal body to that of the slug’s, the creature streaked by bubble-gum pink apparent in the slants of shadow. Even so, through its eyes did it move with surprising swiftness, hastened by sage chakra that naturally amplified through Shikkotsurin slugs. Through the narrow space beneath the door did its body easily slip, smothered before regaining shape once on the other side. 

As Sakura had suspected, the main body contained an industrial warehouse masked by the unassuming white facades of the buildings outside, likely built into the plunging valley walls of Takumi. Quickly did she dart the slug behind a pile of crates, turning a corner where she sensed a number of chakra signatures. From the large area of the warehouse interior did a narrower corridor yield several doorways, but it was where several chakra signatures were congregated that drew Sakura’s notice.

Though she could see a palette of similarly-colored hues of their chakra signatures, she didn’t know how to yet tell them apart like lifelong sensors could. Regardless, given the fact that the River Country was situated between the Fire and Wind countries, she imagined the range of purple hues she saw was native to its people here.

Sakura quickly alighted from the ground to the ceiling, where the ceiling met the wall, utilizing her sage mode-enhanced senses to hear the conversation that clearly had no beneficial intent to those addressed.

“We got seven new girls, but two got stiffed by their patrons. We’re 50 thousand ryō short this week, dammit!” The audible sound of the man smashing his fist on a desk caused the women present to startle, Sakura able to feel even that minute of a tremor. 

“Not gonna be able to make this week’s payment to that Leaf bastard if this keeps up. We don’t run a fucking charity!” another voice chimed in explosively, their chakra signature indicating a man slightly smaller than her captor. “Word is they’ve sent fucking Anbu agents out. We really in that deep?”

 _There’s someone from the Leaf keeping them from shutting down? If it’s Kamae, maybe that’s why we were sent here. To get them scared,_ Sakura surmised to herself, even if this made her particularly justified in busting this den of crime. _We’re more like glorified attack dogs than here to make an actual difference. It makes me wonder if that isn’t the system in play; if they pay up, the Leaf turns a blind eye. If not, they get taken down and he can still reap the benefit of extolling justice as promised._

It made even more sense why he’d be Anbu Chief. As such a significant arm of Konoha’s militia, he controlled what information made it to the Hokage’s desk, what didn’t, while standard Leaf-nin likely ever saw the light of it. It certainly explained the decrease in missions, if what Ino had told her weeks ago held water.

Within moments the men led the indentured women to what she assumed was another cell, wordlessly whilst her consciousness shifted to her own holding place. It was enough so that Sakura awoke Inner Sakura, her doppelganger ideal for such reconnaissance. From there, she could travel as an indistinguishable shade that Sakura remotely witnessed entering the office, doubtlessly to steal any ledgers of pertinent information that could further indict Kamae. 

Still, she knew better than to think it was enough. She needed an inside man to act as a witness that could corroborate a tangible statement, preferably when the trials began that she hoped would be soon.

While Inner Sakura pawed through their sensitive information that would eventually be sealed away in scrolls, she allowed the slug to disintegrate in a pool of liquid no different from a harmless puddle. Sakura’s eyes opened the moment her cell door opened on a whine, feigning intimidation as she leapt back to brace against one of the walls fearfully. 

Or, at least a convincing semblance of it. The henge she cast on herself appeared like her cheeks were raw with streaks to evidence crying, her coronas bloodshot and mournful. Between the valley of a glare and the threat of impending crocodile tears did Sakura lay, her captor from before lumbering through with a hardened look.

“What do you want from me? Why did you take me off the streets?” she demanded hoarsely, affected only by her acting. But, it was convincing enough when the man reached to mockingly stroke her face only for Sakura to reject him by craning her neck away. 

He laughed darkly, crowding closer, breath stale and foul. “Look, darlin’, unless yer some long-last bitch related to the Tsuki clan in the Moon country, you’ve got nothin’ goin’ fer ya. And ya’ve got work t’do, so shut ya trap and get goin’, yeah?”

Sakura dispelled the illusion and gazed at him blandly, a lone brow quirking. The man’s bravado burst as his smirk fell and he blinked dumbly and reacted far too belatedly. 

“Alright, Ōmu, this is on you,” she said aloud as the centipede dropped from the ceiling it’d hidden itself from view and shrunk considerably, dropping bonelessly to his back, just large enough to clamp its wicked mandibles on the man’s spine that elicited a muffled shout as his bulk slammed into the door with a bang, the centipede holding fast as he uselessly struggled. Yet, he was incapacitated, face frozen in shock, as the hands making a grab for his neck fell to his sides and he slumped to the floor. Sakura stood over him, sure he was unconscious. 

“Ōmu-kun, I want to see if you can scan his mind for any information that could help with this case,” Sakura requested respectfully of her summon, its beady claret orbs seeming to glaze over as it made a scan of his mind. 

Sakura paced as she waited, thoughtful. If she were honest with herself, this felt too easy. Like it was a choreographed operation staged to hide the rotting corpse buried just a little deeper. However, given her suspicions with Kamae and his growing stranglehold on organized crime as some bastardized oyabun, she suspected it was purposeful. Enough to please his constituents, but also to enable his illicit affairs. 

However, given the fact that she suspected that this entire operation was just the superficial level she was supposed to find, Sakura knew she had to be satisfied with it, however little there really was.

Clearing the rest of the base was easy. Quickly meditating for a sage mode that could at least last a few minutes, she did a swift reading of the chakra signatures she could sense, and set throughout the rest of the small warehouse. Though she knew there was material that would need to be gone through, as she swiftly assailed the remaining trio of traffickers and pimps present did the kunoichi subject them to genjutsu and locked them in a state of stupor until she could properly bind them with fūinjutsu that would restrict their movements. 

It was nearly comical how aloof Sakura was throughout the process, as if she were a cashier bagging groceries and not an Anbu agent who just apprehended a high-profile human trafficking ring. Or, one of them at the very least. 

With Inner Sakura soon to return with the fruits of her search, Sakura set to properly releasing the entrapped women who met her with heartfelt, tear-stained gratitude. 

“Thank you, miss! I never— I never thought I’d see my family again,” a gaunt brunette sobbed through the dustiness staining her cheeks, clutching Sakura’s forearms for support. 

Sakura smiled softly, wiping away her tears with a corner of her kimono sleeve. “There’s nothing to it. As long as you guys are safe, that’s all that matters. I’m going to get you all to a safe house and get into contact with your families, and put this nightmare to an end.” 

_Spoken like a staple line of some one-dimensional comic book heroine,_ Sakura thought sourly to herself, face a mask of reassurance. Even if she was a little bitter at how underwhelming her progress felt, it was better than nothing. And worlds better than sitting in her damp dungeon cell poring over documents like a monk in his cloister.

_Hey, Kamae—am I being a good little toy soldier?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, I'll admit, there isn't a huge amount of lore to really infodump here, or anything. I also would like to apologize for the wait, but things definitely got busy for me last month, so I wasn't able to really update, but it's here now! 
> 
> As for announcements, I'm going to be going through and revising all of my WOYY stories as a bit of New Year's spring cleaning, but by the next chapter, there's going to be a lot of rising action! So, hopefully you all look forward to that because I have a LOT planned that's headed your guys' way.


	17. Chapter 17

Warning(s): T, severe burn depiction

* * *

The thatched roof of one of the homes on the outskirts of Takumi under the stars and exposed to the elements wasn’t most people’s idea of a comfortable bed, but for her, it felt like the safest. The straw like thatch interwoven densely prickled with a rough texture through her clothing, since having changed back into her Anbu uniform. Under the spangled sky, the cool illumination of the stars and the unusually bright moon doused her in moonlight, reclined against her bedroll. The horizon was dusty with stars, traipsing across the sky more vividly compared to the light pollution of Konoha.

The home she’d selected had been abandoned some time ago, but Sakura had little wish to chance an unsavory encounter with anyone opportunistic, regardless of how long the derelict had been abandoned for. 

Ōmukade had since unwound itself from its coil around the kunoichi, content to curl like a much longer feline in a relaxed spiral by her flank, beady scarlet eyes and pulses of maroon light visible between its plating like a steady metronome that lulled Sakura the more she stared. Ōmukade itself hardly minded if its summoner utilized it in such a way, either.

Yet, before Sakura could begin drifting off to sleep, the sliver of Katsuyu’s clone that hid herself behind the shell of her ear slithered from her niche with the small increments of movement alerting Sakura, the kunoichi scooping the small clone into her palm. 

“Katsuyu-sama, is everything alright?” she queried the sage gently, propped on her elbows. 

“Sakura-chan! I’m sorry, I know you’re in the middle of an important mission, but—it’s urgent!” Sakura immediately gathered her legs under her, electing to sit upright instead. Even Ōmukade unwound, receptive. “It’s Hashirama-sama! I found him, but… he’s in danger and I don’t think I or any of the slugs can save him.”

Sakura bolted upright at the mention of Hashirama being in danger, heart clenching with worry for the Senju. “Screw sleep. Katsuyu-sama, can you reverse summon us to Shikkotsurin? I’ll go.”

Though she had no face upon which to convey it, Katsuyu’s very air seemed grateful. With everything she needed already on her person, the bedroll would be hastily sealed in her supply scroll and returned to one of her pouches, seated on her haunches did the three of them disappear in a plume of smoke.

* * *

The pounding cascade of the waterfalls upon the radius of the temple were the first thing Sakura heard upon her arrival, smoke dissipated as she straightened on the pale, ethereally aglow roots of the central tree that dominated the temple’s epicenter, starry leaves shimmering as if in reception to her coming. It was upon the smooth meditation dais that she’d manifested, imprints of her sandals glowing on restlessly shifting weight.

“Katsuyu-sama, can you tell me where I’m going? Let’s not waste any time,” Sakura directed as Ōmukade replaced itself on her shoulders, a silent vigil to witness what was to come.

Though a few of the slugs watched them quietly, they sensed the urgency Sakura suspected might have been Katsuyu’s deliberation with them before attaining the kunoichi’s help. The periphery of the temple outlined with a radiant embankment of fluted trees and shower of willowy fronds that poured into the temple proper ascended over the high, fluorescent waterfalls that thundered the closer Sakura came to them, the fine spray of what poured into the gorge beneath the suspended temple misting her exposed cheeks. 

With a larger clone of Katsuyu since affixed to her shoulder, the slug elected to brief her on the sojourn to Hashirama’s inevitable location. 

“The place he’s at is known as the Pale Graves. It’s one quite seeped in In’yō energies and could be quite dangerous, Sakura-chan.”

As she summoned vines from Bloom Release from the towering treetops, vaulting into the air as her cape snapped in her wake as the wind sung past her, she built a momentum in the swings as their heading became clear. 

Of what Sakura had learned of In’yōdō, the primordial Yin manifestations bolstered by natural energies had curious effects on the world outside of conscious invocation, and a place such as the Pale Graves carried a ghostly anticipation. For Sakura had learned to convert her fear into an outlet for courage long ago, much as the thrum of the unknown rattled to her core. 

Sakura’s flight through the shimmering canopy hailed the beginnings of a river that illuminated in a great vein through its meandering path beneath the glimmering foliage, only for the kunoichi to descend to the lower reaches. The vines became needless as she alighted soundly to a massive fern that recoiled upon contact, glowing cobalt fronds retracted that provided steady purchase for her to drop into the lush underbrush coloring the forest floor in a dazzling array of light. 

“So, we just have to follow the river to get there?” Sakura asked once she’d ascertained a pathway on the river’s embankments, ivory sands softening her footfalls. Massive leaves sheltered the river from much of the world above, inclining gently towards its waters. 

“Yes, Sakura-chan. It’s difficult to find on its own, but that’s why I’m with you.”

Sakura nodded obliquely, the river ahead occasionally interrupted by the odd felled tree or even kaijū that crossed or emerged from its refulgent depths, denoted most by the seams of pulsating light or their lumbering that sounded with dull peals like thunder. 

“Katsuyu-sensei, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she began with a heavy weight in her throat, heavier than the footfalls that brought the three of them closer to the Pale Graves. 

“Why did you do it? Why did you help Hashirama capture Son Gokū-sama? Was he the only one?”

Katsuyu froze on her very shoulder, replaced with a palm-sized clone since Sakura had been summoned to the forest. Her steps almost ceased, but the urgency to rescue Hashirama from his mysterious predicament spurred her on, a biting crop through their sudden melancholy. 

“Sakura-chan, I…” Katsuyu murmured haltingly, voice thick with lament. “I can’t justify what I did. But, Hashirama-sama came to me as a child, and for one so young to train among us… he was, and still is, like a son to me.” It didn’t answer Sakura’s question, and the slug knew it, but she knew better than to cast judgment prematurely. “I am his summon, true, but before that… I am the Great Slug Sage, _Ōname Sennin_. When Hashirama-sama spoke of how he had no choice but to do this, with the rancor the other villages raised, even knowing who Son Gokū-sama was besides the Yonbi, I believed in him completely. That’s why I helped him capture Son Gokū-sama, and the others, despite knowing who they were. I have no excuses for what I did, for the shame I brought to the slugs. I’m sorry, Sakura-chan!”

The silence that fell over them was syrupy with anticipation, frazzled by its own indecision. Yet, she continued in her trek as she let it have its silence, the sounds of omnipresent fauna and the ever flowing river making true silence impossible. 

“It’s funny, Katsuyu-sensei, but I had a conversation like this with Sanzang-senpai not that long ago. He got upset remembering all the things Kaguya and her descendants did to the peoples of the Inner Path and how Madara was descended from Indra, who made it a lot worse. And how he insinuated that what the Uchiha had gone through was karmic. He apologized to me after, but I’ll tell you what I told him.” Sakura paused for significance, the slug hanging to every word. “Any apology isn’t mine to accept, and one day we’ll have to go to Kakazan and apologize to the sage monkeys and Son Gokū-sama ourselves.”

Katsuyu nuzzled into Sakura’s cheek and the kunoichi affectionately reciprocated, a sense of peace flooding them both. “Thank you, Sakura-chan. With Son Gokū-sama freed from the jinchūriki cycle, it’ll be the first time in almost a century that we’ll be able to do that. I owe them a lifetime of apologies, and so does Hashirama-sama,” the slug resolved in full agreement. 

They continued for a time in companionable silence, for even the chatty Ōmukade had a sense that the air was yet too laden to quip liberally. 

“Sakura-chan, is the reason you’ve come to this revelation because of Neji-kun’s death and Madara-sama’s technical involvement in it?” Katsuyu asked blithely that blindsided the kunoichi completely. She knew the sage likely hadn’t intended on sounding such, yet the implications made Sakura’s heart clench with remorse and guilt alike. 

It wasn’t that she hadn’t mourned him. It wasn’t like she hadn’t felt gutted watching it transpire and knowing she was useless to stop it, let alone to save him. A year and half ago, she and the Hyūga had been in an unnamed semblance of a relationship, formed over those three years she’d been training under Tsunade’s wing. It had been unspoken, only because Neji had entered a new chapter of prominence and Hiashi’s favor that it would’ve been a disaster if the Hyūga patriarch had discovered them. Branch member though he might be, he had been of a peerage leagues of her own, one of the four noble clans of Konoha of shinobi nobility in the very real interpretation of the word. And she was just a lowly civilian no matter how many times over she was lauded as Tsunade’s successor. 

It was odd how alike she and Tsunade had become with losing the men they’d loved during war, but that wasn’t the point. 

Sakura had been going through the same struggle with reconciling all Madara had done, even Hashirama. It made the guilt of fraternizing with Madara as much as she had been foiled in the guilty relief of Neji’s death caused by the war hadn’t been directly the Uchiha’s fault. 

She may as well have danced on his grave from how close she’d become with the Uchiha ancestor. 

_I don’t mean to interrupt what must be very important, but we’re almost there,_ Ōmukade informed them, beady scarlet flickering with excitement. 

“We can talk more about this later, Katsuyu-sensei,” Sakura deflected upon the announcement, guilt replaced with a high-strung anticipation. The slug’s silence was all the affirmation she needed. Affirmation that she didn’t have to dwell on something so wretched when a much more monumental task was moments away from greeting them.

A divergent tributary of the river they trekked along accelerated in speed in its swift path through what soon became the rising sides of a sloping canyon where vines descended, a gorge yawning as the cliff sides receded into the stone as misty tendrils of a radiant blue wafted into the air in a profusion that nearly masked the sudden drop below. Though she could sense either Ōmukade or Katsuyu with suggestions primed, both of her companions fell into a quiet observation to see what Sakura would do in their stead. 

Concentrating natural energies in the tenketsu of her feet, on a bed of air did Sakura alight to tread over the river and follow its fluorescent trail to their destination. As the kunoichi renewed her way to the Pale Graves, the canyon narrowed and the cliff sides ascended higher the greater the river inclined, churning into a swelling race of rapids over stone that came ever closer to the inevitable drop. It was when she finally came to that sudden precipice the river leapt over that Sakura took a brief pause, knowing what to do.

In an ambling descent did Sakura intermittently release her grip in the air-walking technique to drop in a short freefall, bounding between points where she would suddenly renew her circulation of sage chakra to prevent her from falling into the perilous chasm below. The abyss had to have been at least 140 meters in depth, Sakura estimated just before she reached its nadir. 

The suffusion of illuminated mists and the dull, resonant roar of the waterfall pounding the waters in the enormous, high silo fed into a cavern Sakura could skate upon the water’s surface of the burgeoning tributary and the new river formed from it. Able to conserve chakra this way, Sakura languidly skated as she let it lead them to their destination. 

“So, once we clear this, we’ll be at the Pale Graves?” Sakura reiterated once the dull roar of the waterfall ebbed into the din, the smooth passage of the river suppressing the worst of the noise that might have made any exchange difficult. Though she was mindful of any stones in the river, the meandering tube that would soon empty into the Graves.

“Yes, Sakura-chan. It shouldn’t be much longer now.”

The predictions became as true as the river rounded a bend that fed into a blinding egress flooding with light Sakura bemusedly wondered was natural sunlight when she doubted it was the case. 

The staggering height of the cavern that opened before her saw the river disgorge into a vast lagoon that spanned in a wide swath before the beginnings of a marshland emerged through the dense fog where the silhouettes of willow trees of staggering height filled the hundred meter cavern, the trees of equally megalithic measure dominating whole islets where massive roots interspersed and interlocked, their cascading willows bearing fluorescent jade foliage that touched the lagoon’s waters and blocked any view of the cavern above. From its highest vaults did brambles of batholithic roots ascend its walls, webbing the stone with their veins of light Sakura could practically hear the natural energies coursing through. 

As they came closer to one of the foremost willows crowning what could be considered the entrance, amid the leaves as tall as she was did a discovery among the flora shock her.

Nestled within the willow fronds were chrysalides like opaque crystal that housed heavily obscured humanoid shape in its smoky facets, the closest she’d come upon housing the silhouetted shape of a man in a fetal position still as ice, the faint insinuation of clothing swimming about his form as though he’d been suspended in water that froze suddenly. Yet, for as heavy as it seemed, it swayed on a breeze with no source that shouldn’t have existed in this place.

“Hang on—is this person alive?” Sakura thought aloud, much to Ōmukade’s amusement.

 _No, little flower. They’re all dead. Most of the people here are Ōtsutsuki of Hamura’s stock, the ancestors of your village’s Hyūga’s clan,_ the centipede explained with a click of its mandibles. 

“So, that city Hashirama-sama brought me to…” Sakura mused, to which Katsuyu nodded.

“These were its inhabitants, Sakura-chan,” Katsuyu answered gently which silenced Sakura’s querying thoughts.

Well, _most_ of them. 

“Ōmu-kun, what do you mean that _most_ of the people ‘buried’ here are Ōtsutsuki?”

The centipede chittered animatedly, as if gleeful. _These people died hundreds of years ago. Some weren’t from those cities, and some… died as recently as several decades ago in the Sengoku Era._

The revelation brought with it new questions. What did Ōmukade mean that some were from that era? Sakura had been led to believe that Hashirama had been the only person in centuries to newly inhabit Shikkotsurin, but… there were others?

“Ōmukade, _don’t_ ,” Katsuyu reproached in a warning tone Sakura had never heard the slug use before, curiosity mingling sickly with a shade of dread hung over her like a shadow lingering at her back. 

_And why not? With all due respect, Ōname Sennin, she’ll find out eventually. It’s better to tell the truth than smother her in pretty lies—_

Ōmukade was barely able to finish the thought when a cacophonous roar thundered with terrible dissonance throughout the Graves, eliciting a crystalline ringing from the chrysalis they stood beside. To answer the formless question as to the source came the gurgling maunder of the kaijū and the clashing thunder as its gait found purchase amid the strangling tangle of roots. 

Sakura’s mind faced whiplash between whatever secrets her summons quibbled over and the appearance of the new foe, electing to ignore whatever secret it was in favor of clambering to the root closest to them and hunkering near its massive girth enough to conceal the trio. As her chakra proliferated in the blink of an eye, only to return to her, the radar formulated an idea of what they were facing. 

The kaijū, from what she could perceive with the Third Eye Gate, was undead. Though it should have alarmed her, considering how Katsuyu had mentioned the In’yō energies that saturated the space, the idea of reanimated creatures or people didn’t alarm her as much as it should’ve. 

Yet, to her peril, she could hear the lumbering kaijū stop and rumble contemplatively, Sakura’s breath hitched when she realized that it somehow knew they were there. Unfortunately for whatever found them, Sakura rarely ran from a battle if her life depended on it.

Hopping to the root proper to ascertain what she was facing, it became evident. The massive kaijū was at least twenty meters at the shoulder, a quadruped defined by the exoskeletal plating that armored its body fastened by vines and other growth, vines hung like a mane from its bulky neck and swayed with every movement, mosses and lichen clinging to exposed bone, the equine-shape of its skull pronounced by its wicked fangs and tusks that protruded from its jowls. Spectral orbs filled the trio of eye sockets, a sideways view of the kunoichi drunk in from its view. With locomotion more akin to a hyena, it lumbered thunderously upon the ground, massive waves generated from its spiny tail tipped by a wicked mace of bone. Radiant fog seeped from every orifice, exhaled from its maw like breath.

Without being asked did Katsuyu slither from her shoulder to the space between her shoulder blades, barely wincing as the biting sting of fusion brought with it a larger scope of natural energies that brightened the chakra pathways beneath her flesh, circulating her body as much as her innate ferocity did. Even the zombie kaijū acknowledged it, tensing some before bellowing a challenging roar. 

The kaijū didn’t wait as it charged her with deadly serrations bared in its open maw, tearing through tree roots in a maelstrom of splinters and massive shrapnel, to which Sakura bounded over the roots with chakra charged in her extremities in anticipation. 

It was only when it took a soaring leap to crash through the willow fronds with chrysalides clashing against its hide and stirring the foliage chaotically that Sakura raced to meet it, catching it by the snout as the force of hundreds of tons rippled through her body and the root she braced against groaned beneath the strain before the kunoichi pivoted just enough to hurl the kaijū in an arc that scraped the upper vaults as she released and sent the massive zombie colliding through the canopy before it landed with a calamitous splash in the lagoon itself. 

A wider place where she could kick this thing’s ass without obstruction. 

A wave surged through the root system and momentarily washed over her before Sakura leapt high enough to risk being swept away, balanced upon the slightly raised waters as the lagoon churned while the kaijū righted itself from the brief daze. 

This time, as Sakura emerged from the graveyard proper, determination coloring her movements as she stalked the periphery of the lagoon, the kaijū yawping as it acted similarly; two foes of equally acknowledged ability knowing what threat the other was. 

However, the moment of deliberation didn’t last long as Sakura unleashed her signature Cherry Blossom Impact that elicited a cavernous buckling of the earthen plates below, behemoths and geysers erupting from the lagoon’s floor to buffet and upset its stance enough to send it aloft for several long moments until it suddenly paused, standing upon the air itself as she often had. The plates collided with churning impact to the waters below, silt and waves huing the tranquil waters with a dusty pigmentation from the chaos of their battle. 

“Of course it can air walk,” Sakura hissed under her breath, remembering the first kaijū she’d ever faced standing atop water like the most practiced shinobi. Of course, it was from her own brief forgetfulness in a usually retentive mind that the kaijū of Shikkotsurin could utilize senjutsu in equal measure as any sage. Channeling sage chakra into her tenketsu again, she strode through the air to meet her airborne opponent. 

With her sensory ability yielded from Sage Mode invoked, she was able to discern that this kaijū—despite being undead—possessed both Wind and Fire Release, which told her enough as to the nature of senjutsu it likely possessed within the scope of elemental senjutsu. 

As if responding to her summation of its prowess, the air undulated like the interior of a mirage and scorched the heavy humidity ever present throughout Shikkotsurin. Yet, Sakura had no intention of allowing it to unleash whatever jutsu was accruing ambient power. 

_Crystal Release: Crystal Lance_

Instead of creating a polearm that would’ve otherwise encased her forearm, a massive field of spikes burst from the lagoon and impaled the air, breaking through the kaijū’s exoskeleton cobbled together with mists leaking where they’d penetrated. Uttering a feeble roar that grew in fury, the undulating atmosphere roasted her flesh enough to yield mild burns even though the sage mode that healed them almost instantaneously. 

From undulant air did a vortex of flame lick the space between them as Sakura launched herself back, freefalling into the lagoon with the vortex cresting into an inferno that colored the dreamy, foggy landscape a virulent whirl of flame that swallowed the air even as Sakura dropped into the pool with a meager splash. Gratefully, the endurance of sage mode allowed her breath to be held beyond its normal limits, watching as the inferno scorched the surface distortedly from below. 

However, Sakura’s beguiled belief in her own safety wrenched the moment she felt the water scald and boil beneath her and envelop her body caustically, barely able to scream as bubbles streamed from her lips and water rushed in, frantically propelling herself from the crystalline depths as steam hung heavily and she raced to cling to one of the massive roots webbing the concave cavern walls, heaving shuddering breaths as burns scorched her flesh and blinded her with pain before she naturally began to regenerate, tremulous even as the kaijū scented the air for her. 

“Hey, either of you know this thing’s weakness?” she demanded from Katsuyu and Ōmukade alike, lingering pain a fading memory as her flesh repaired with only the sensation of the water’s intensity branded in her mind. 

_Ōname Sennin wouldn’t be able to tell you, so listen up: at the core of these reanimated kaijū is a core of crystallized In’yō energies that give it life. Destroy that and you’ll win,_ the centipede supplied with a hint of smugness, Katsuyu begrudgingly quiet despite the peril they’d just escaped from. Neither was so easily harmed, as it were.

“Destroy the core, got it,” Sakura summarized in affirmation, feeling returning to her limbs as the worst of the pain evaporated before the steam that still clung to the lagoon’s roiling waters. The hiss of evaporating steam punctuated the air long after the fire senjutsu dissipated, enacting her next move before the kaijū could locate her.

_Bloom Release: Underworld of Roots_

The jaws of the ground beneath the kaijū yawned, the crumbling of plates into the gaping fissure and titanic, warped chaos of collapsing rubble sounded ominously for the kaijū to witness when it was already too late. A whiplash of massive, efflorescent roots surged from the loud roar of water rushing into the enormous orifice that cascaded loudly on the kaijū that yawped uselessly as they coiled and arrested the kaijū enough to upset its stance on the bed of air and haul it partially into the steaming chasm. The collision of its armored shell with that of the paralyzing roots resonated crushingly, spectral orbs eying the air beadily until its gaze landed upon the kunoichi. 

With disarming nonchalance did Sakura drop to the rolling waves before striding towards the kaijū partially obscured by the chasm it had become incapacitated within, tightening the coil of her kekkei tōta’s vice in unspoken warning should it try to struggle. Stoically did she stand where it could see her, surprisingly peaceable as she crouched at the lip of the chasm much of the water had sluiced into, remnants dribbling over the rim. 

“You’re not supposed to be awake. Let me help you rest,” Sakura murmured, wondering if it’d even heard her, let alone understood. If it did, its tension relaxed within her jutsu’s vice. 

Hopping atop its carapace did she rely on sage mode’s heightened senses to locate the In’yō source that throbbed like a heartbeat as Sakura trekked the length of its spine and found its epicenter. There, she utilized Bloom Release again to pry open the armored plating and expose the rib beneath, extremities snaking to snap off a few rib bones that sounded with a deafening crackle. The new opening leaked misty light, Sakura dropping through.

A profusion of flora grew inside the kaijū’s chest cavity, electric blue mist seeping without as Sakura then found the crystallized heart wherein plant matter sourced from it like a circulatory system, drawing life. Even a good few meters above her head did Sakura simply raise her fist, a few pulses of her chakra-enhanced strength all that was required to shatter it. 

Immediately, the kaijū’s body slumped and animation ceased, mist disappearing in thin air as if it’d never been there at all. The fractals lingered like cinders before flickering out in succession, the air replaced by an uneasy quiet Sakura was eager to extricate herself from that deathly cage, past bleached bones and limpid extrusions and into the brightness of the Pale Graves once more. 

Upon escaping the lifeless hollow, Sakura activated Bloom Release coupled with a nameless Earth Release to retract the appendages and close the chasm, a whorl of lingering water draining before it sealed entirely, water replaced by the tributary that fed it swiftly that it seemed as though there were no battle to have ensued at all.

Alas, Sakura didn’t disengage sage mode entirely, knowing she still had need for it. Among the chrysalides with their lifeless forms submerged in crystal that preserved them forevermore, she knew that Hashirama himself wouldn’t be a dead cell.

“I think we’re getting close!” Sakura proclaimed in the midst of the willows and roots she traveled swiftly, following his chakra signature as they passed through the variant ‘graves’, an identical sea they disregarded until she took pause at one that stood out among those brightly pale trees that emerged through the vale of fog. 

The kunoichi balked at the mighty oak that grew unexpectedly, forced through entwined roots that dominated the cavern otherwise. It was unusual amid an otherworldly world, plain and homely as a crow among doves, but a relieving sight concerning the one she sought. 

“He’s in there, Sakura-chan. I can sense him.”

“Yeah, I can, too.” 

To ensure she knew where to seek him, she used the Third Eye Gate again to send a ripple of chakra through the tree, palm flat upon its gnarled bark until what returned elicited a furrowed brow. Refusing to stall any longer, where the two forked paths of the trunk diverged did she manfully seize one of the halves and tear it open with superfluous ease, barely straining as it tore like a twig snapping. Ripping until it touched the base, inside was a hollow the size of a man wherein Hashirama’s prone form was housed. Sakura’s eyes widened in alarm.

Because he was a wood clone and not a shadow clone, it was impossible to deliberate what healing method she could use, his unconsciousness stemming from an unknown origin that she wouldn’t be able to discern at a glance. Regardless, Sakura clawed through whatever remnants of the tree prevented his extraction before gently prying the Senju free to lean lifelessly against her shoulder, chillingly inanimate despite how she knew he wasn’t dead. For, if he was, his clone wouldn’t have even been there.

“Katsuyu-sama, is he okay?” Sakura questioned worriedly once she’d drawn Hashirama entirely away, maneuvering the man so an arm would drape over her shoulder and she could better move. His armor clanked from the movement, color still present on his skin, clothing, and hair, which gave her some relief. 

Ōmukade had since removed itself from Sakura’s shoulders, lingering in the topiary watching them deliberate their next course of action. _You should take him to the temple, to its healing waters. I imagine you know where they are by now, my little flower._

Sakura brightened in recognition of the place Ōmukade mentioned, of the bathing pools on a lower floor within the temple complex ideal for something such as this. Especially considering how she’d taken to learning medical senjutsu from Katsuyu in such a venue that fostered it especially well. 

“Right! Katsuyu-sama, can you reverse summon us there? I think I know what to do,” Sakura resolved as she shifted to adjust Hashirama once, disappearing in a plume of smoke from the mysterious Pale Graves.

* * *

Though it was utterly needless, Sakura had ensured that Hashirama’s armor had been carefully removed before beginning treatment, as the additional weight of the armor plating would likely hamper him and her ministrations. 

The Healing Hall was located in a place beneath the cells Sakura made a home of whenever she stayed the night, hewn from the stone riddled with glowing veins of ore that naturally conducted natural energies and produced ethereally starry patchworks that laced the construct mesmerizingly. The Halls were composed of an antechamber that fed into several pools fleshed from the stone filled with Shikkotsurin’s naturally phosphorescent waters but imbued with healing energies not found commonly. Scales of undulating, pale jade reflected on the walls and ceilings denoted their healing potential in their waters, warm to the touch. A pair of colonnades lined a central walkway that divided the pools from the ingress, carved from black onyx while the rest seemed built from a starry amethyst geode.

Hashirama was unconsciously propped against one such column, feet dangling near the brim of one of the larger pools that dominated it. Sakura had since removed her Anbu uniform’s cape and fingerless gloves, as she preferred to be fully tactile when administering such treatment. 

“Alright, he’s ready to be submerged, Sakura-chan,” Katsuyu directed softly from the poolside, the kunoichi nodding as her instincts as a med-nin operated on auto-pilot. 

Carefully did she maneuver the much larger man within the shallow depths, of which only came to her knees were she stood herself. The water rippled and cast plays of light on the inclining walls, able to view her reflection on their peerlessly smooth facets if she cared to scrutinize them closely enough. 

Hashirama’s long, chestnut tresses fanned like a halo around him, the earthy brown of his complexion softened by its warm glow. Once he’d been safely deposited where he couldn’t sink totally beneath the surface did Sakura utilize a Water Release not unlike what she did with her Delicate Illness Extraction Technique, bringing short waves to lap over his skin and skirt his face and dousing his hair, cleaning him of the grime that had accumulated over the months.

All the better to prevent complications, even if his body wasn’t flesh and blood. 

“He’s ready, Katsuyu-sensei.”

At Sakura’s confirmation did the slug find her way up the kunoichi’s arm once more, supervising from her shoulder as Ōmukade had since departed from the Pale Graves in favor of rejoining its den mates in its own sector of the forest that inhabited the centipedes. 

“Now, Sakura-chan, what I’m going to teach you to do today is something known as Senriki. It’s a lower form of In’yōdō and Onmyōdō that allows a sage to access In’yō and On'yō energies without having to undergo the harrowing process necessary to learn it. It’s how you’ll be able to help him.”

What Katsuyu neglected to mention—or purposefully omitted—was the fact that Hashirama acted as a medium upon which she could learn the practice. Given where he’d been for the past several months, it made sense. 

The light of crystal sconces illuminated her features cooly, of the concentration that followed a steadying inhale. Sitting cross-legged on the pool’s perimeter, she straightened her spine and exhaled. 

If being entrenched in the energies of the Pale Graves had taught her anything, it was how she might recognize In’yō that wandered the very fabric of his soul, chaining it in a way she’d never encountered before. As the jade scales rippled against her face that had taken on a wary expression, she willed any doubt away in a manner that had carried her through trials worse than this. 

Sakura gradually lost sense of the material world, of the cool stone that touched folded calves or the damp, sweetly humid air that circulated the Hall. Instead, like how she dived psychically into her mind’s eye whenever she accessed her kekkei tōta, so too did this concentration entreat her into the unseen, she, Katsuyu’s, and Hashirama’s souls extant on a new, dark realm that were adrift like planets in the cosmos. 

Yet, when hers of jade and turquoise came within orbit of the Senju’s, something was undoubtedly wrong. Instead of the hunter green hue she’d come to associate with him that existed in a quarter in Tsunade, embodying the forest itself, ashen light sullied it and chained it. Navigating her psyche through the ephemeral darkness, through the starless endlessness, their souls touched and it felt like touching the dead. She flinched, but didn’t relent.

Metaphorical weapons fashioned from the ether drove spearheads and tantō and other weaponry into a salvo, scraping and grating against the impregnable fortress some unknown force had erected to trap him within. When something soundless in her sighed, she glanced at the sphere of her soul, a realization dawning. Like a ribbon did she draw its light into her hand, amassing a small globe of its very color that was warm to the touch, a gentle thing. From where it came, only the unseen might guess, but it wouldn’t take a clairvoyant to recognize something selfless and kind that powered it, of genuine compassion.

That same sphere was gently applied to the Senju’s soul where the thorny veil that kept him chained was gradually dissolved, and how long it took, she couldn’t say, but… how beautiful it was. Its ashen hue bolstered with a newfound luster, something alive and stirring as Sakura continued this shadowy work, palpitating through his soul and gently leading it from the darkness, absorbing what was so freely given.

There was no begrudging sacrifice, no bloody martyrdom offered for the price of his freedom. Just purity and the sanctity of kindness and compassion only humans could offer to another human. 

Mere moments would pass as all resistance fell and Hashirama’s soul was freed, to spring anew as soon as it pleased.

The otherworldly place her very consciousness had been drawn into faded away as feeling in her body returned and the sensation of the cool, smooth mortar beneath her and the solidness of her body coupled with the hazy warmth of such a humid place realigned her as she opened her eyes to see Hashirama’s flutter slowly open, hazy amber that foggily regained consciousness as Sakura reached to touch his shoulder once he sat up, hair sopping wet and hanging heavily on his equally drenched clothing.

Yet, it was upon this notice that Hashirama lurched upright and bolted from the shallow pool like a cat that had been dashed with ice water, braced against another column as he locked eyes with Sakura in mute shock, gaping through panted, needless breaths. When he realized who she was, Hashirama’s jaw clamped shut against the horror that had paralyzed him momentarily, the Senju sinking to the ground on his knees, hugging himself. 

“I’m… sorry. I just awoke suddenly, and… I didn’t know who you were for a moment,” the Senju apologized with a genuinely contrite expression, smile strained. “Everything’s such a blur— We spoke recently, then I was in that place.” Hashirama folded his arms, tremulous. Could he even feel cold, heat?

The man’s gaze darted in surprise as he felt the careful weight of Sakura’s cape settled on his shoulders by the kunoichi herself, a hand instinctively gathering the warm fabric closer to clasp it shut. His innocuous surprise was replaced with an achingly tender smile, the kunoichi sinking to her knees before him, undisguised concern and relief awash on her face.

“Hey, are you okay, Hashirama-sama?” she asked soothingly. The hard line in his shoulders fell slack when he realized where he was, sighting Katsuyu and Sakura and the Healing Hall where the air was sweet and humid and the dull roar of the waterfalls that encompassed the temple were unmistakably heard. 

His rich amber gaze fell in relief, but not his smile. Even drenched and saturated with medicinal waters, it remained as timelessly as a star.

“I am now. Thanks to you both. Thanks to you, Sakura-san.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, with this new chapter comes a pretty big lore dump!
> 
> One of the main concepts introduced is a lower level of Onmyōdō/In'yōdō known as Senriki. Now, [Senriki](https://naruto.fandom.com/wiki/Senjutsu#Sage_Power) does exist within Naruto canon, however, the way it's presented just... makes very little sense to me. In the manga, it's established that senjutsu [requires chakra](https://64.media.tumblr.com/8cc9e67961ca4fd871084357be779b2d/4be44ffc54585637-86/s500x750/293620e320c2236851f2b2953644a6ff0af01780.png), and potent chakra at that. So, what are they balancing with natural energy in order to produce sage chakra to perform senjutsu, then, let alone before Hagoromo circulated in around the world? Hence, the idea that Senriki could be a lower tier than Onmyōdō that sages who have reached even the lowest tier of Complete Sage Mode can perform. 
> 
> (Speaking of, I actually wrote [a whole theory](https://chalabrun.tumblr.com/post/640749100749504512/some-thoughts-on-sakuras-chakra-theory) outlining why I believe Sakura has potent chakra reserves, especially to practice senjutsu.)
> 
> Additionally, In'yō and On'yō are my in-universe name for the energies utilized in Onmyōdō that are the precursor to ancient Yin and Yang energies. Now, these names actually exist, as they're the [Japanese translation of Yin and Yang](https://gyazo.com/c0dc9db4c134671eb4758e4149707b4b), respectively. Given the fact that the wiki states that all jutsu derive from some combination of Yin and Yang energies being combined (as seen [here](https://naruto.fandom.com/wiki/Yin%E2%80%93Yang_Release)), it holds water in my AU where there were only ancient precursors to Yin and Yang Release that, as I said with Onmyōdō's explanation in ch. 7, combines spiritual energy to balance with natural energies to produce Onmyōdō and now Senriki, too.
> 
> For anyone wondering why there's a sudden inclusion of past Nejisaku, it's the ship featured in Joy, Shining, Blooming that's this fic's prequel and will be mentioned, but not often, as Sakura's prior relationship.
> 
> Now, for more of an image spam, but I actually completed a lot of new edits & illustrations of concepts within MMC!
> 
> 1) My redesigned look for the [Temple of the Inner Path](https://chalabrun.tumblr.com/post/632969721545998336/shikkotsunin-the-temple-of-the-inner-path) that is much, much closer to what I have envisioned.  
> 2) My concept for the [Pale Graves](https://chalabrun.tumblr.com/post/633653346220244992/the-pale-graves).  
> 3) Another edit of [Shikkotsurin's](https://chalabrun.tumblr.com/post/637126595220570112/shikkotsurin) forest and what you might see of the locals.  
> 4) An edit of what each of the [Cardinal Temples](https://chalabrun.tumblr.com/post/631905425336467456/the-cardinal-temples) look like.  
> 5) And lastly, concept art of what [Sakura](https://chalabrun.tumblr.com/post/638150837348237312/so-a-little-concept-of-mine-from-the-woyy-is) looks like channeling sage chakra and her usual, physical appearance in Shikkotsurin.


	18. Chapter 18

Warning(s): T, past abuse mentions

* * *

A restive stillness fell in the interlude as brief as an inhale, while the wake of Hashirama’s revival ushered with it Katsuyu moving to fuse with the Senju’s spine to perform a proper diagnosis. The undulant, scaly projections from the pools seemed to act like an odd metronome as Hashirama sat meditatively whilst Katsuyu performed her work.

“There was something blocking your Coiled Path channel, Hashirama-kun, but Sakura-chan managed to clear whatever was obstructing it,” Katsuyu announced several minutes later as the faint, ivory aura that had surrounded her faded and the slug dislodged from her connection to the brunet. 

From what Sakura had learned of the Coiled Path in the last several months spent in study, bowed over scrolls and tablets kept within the Archives, was the fact that the Coiled Path had originally been the pre-chakra system people had evolved with, the byways in which their spiritual energies traversed their bodies that could balance with In’yō and Onmyō to perform both Onmyōdō and Senriki that had once been more commonplace. That was, until it became replaced by the Eight Gates and chakra pathways and supplanted until the Coiled Path only existed as a vestige. 

From what Katsuyu had just informed her, it seemed as though something had ensnared Hashirama in the Pale Graves months ago and had arrested him at that place. Yet, what made Sakura curious was why he was there at all. With it being an Ōtsutsuki burial ground, surely he had little reason to visit.

The question surely conveyed upon her features when Hashirama’s amber gaze found hers, pulling her from her reverie. 

“I was there because I wanted to see my father,” Hashirama explained simply, downcast as indecision tugged at his lips. “The Pale Graves have more than just… tombs. You can see your deceased loved ones if you know how to tap into the In’yō energies correctly, but…”

“You were there for too long. I was worried, Hashi-kun…” As the slug had since perched upon Hashirama’s shoulder, the Senju regarded her with sad guilt before nuzzling into her gelatinous body, the closest they could come to an embrace. It didn’t take any particular knowledge to see the maternal feelings Katsuyu harbored for the Senju.

“What was your father like?” Sakura asked after their contrition, sitting cross-legged before the man but not so intrusively close. “…If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” 

She couldn’t help but notice how Hashirama grew noticeably tense, bringing his knees closer to his chest without hugging them there. Though it drew slight concern, she didn’t remark upon it. 

“My father was… a very harsh but principled man. He was a product of his time,” Hashirama began haltingly, a shaky exhale sounding. “Butsuma was a firm father. From when we were young, he ensured that my brothers and I were pushed to excel to our utmost. When we weren’t conducting missions or learning things boys of our class were expected to, we trained from sunup to sundown. It wasn’t always so terrible, but… he sometimes lost his temper and had a habit of disciplining us.”

_ Disciplining?  _ That caused Sakura’s eyes to narrow suspiciously, but not obviously. Beguilingly, she noticed that some of her cloak was slipping from one of Hashirama’s shoulders. When she motioned to fix it, the brunet’s breath hitched and his eyes became unblinking upon her, wide with terror. Incrementally, he withdrew where her hand intended to touch until he could no more and scooted to the side by a good foot from her reach. 

“I… i-is something wrong?” he queried nervously, smile skittish and uncertain. It was only when Sakura sat back in place, a good few feet from him, that the Senju reluctantly relaxed against the pillar again, reaffixing the cloak around his broad shoulders.

“Did your father hurt you, Hashirama-sama?” Sakura asked suddenly, face solemnly upon the man that caught him unawares. 

His mouth gaped in soundless protest before offering a nervous smile. “… _ Hurt me? _ What do you mean by that?”

Sakura was motionless except for the slight heave of her shoulders from a short sigh. “Did he ever hit you? When he disciplined you,” she clarified to which Hashirama’s tensity gave way and he sagged against the pillar. 

“It was… more like… he—” Hashirama faltered after a prolonged moment, resting his wrists atop his kneecaps. He seemed silent, of something unseen bludgeoning him in a place she couldn’t see. Unable to answer like it was lodged in his mouth with thorns. 

But, he didn’t need to answer her. Just looking at him told her the truth.

“He abused you.”

It’s said in a colorless tone, the weight of that revelation pronounced without dread, without shock. But, she is not without compassion as Hashirama’s eyes widened in disbelief, lips quirked oddly at the corners, like an uproarious laugh birthed on his tongue that died just as quickly. 

“ _ Abused _ …?” He smiled indulgently, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes as even she could see the pain and memory of it in bright amber. “Oh no, you’re quite mistaken. Things are different now, and while I understand our definitions have changed, what my father did was discipline me. I can understand where the confusion—”

Sakura craned towards him again, innocuously reaching for his shoulder like before. The Senju reacted just as exaggeratedly, lurching to the side enough that he nearly unseated himself from trying to escape such a simple touch. There was nothing feigned in the terror that welled so automatically. When he realized what she was doing, in the wake of the kunoichi resuming her seat, Hashirama recomposed himself. However forced though it was. 

“You’re not weak for admitting something was wrong. And it doesn’t make you a bad son, either,” Sakura told him quietly, tucking her legs into her side. 

It wasn’t something he hadn’t realized before, she thought, but something he could finally acknowledge. And it was apparent in the way the Senju grew utterly quiet, the lapping of the waters in the healing pools deafening in comparison. Sakura frowned slightly, heart constricted sympathetically, even if she didn’t want to make him feel worse for being pitied. 

“It is what it is, isn’t it? Recognizing it won’t take it back,” Hashirama murmured grimly, smile more like a wince. Like a fist had stopped short of his face. “I… wasn’t the only one.”

Sakura glanced at him, silently encouraging him. 

“I might have been the only one to be hit, but… he was exacting. We might have been children to you, but in my day, it wasn’t the case. We were warriors treated like adults. And—punished.” The brunet sighed tensely, shoulders rigid with an expectation that seemed uneasy. Like he’s become aware of the labyrinth he was trapped in. 

“I guess things were really different, right? But, you probably felt like something was wrong.”

Hashirama’s teeth displayed a disbelieving grin. “I couldn’t even stomach hugging my own son, my own wife! I was afraid  _ for _ them more than I was afraid of them. What kind of father imagines the possibility of his son being bruised from his own fists? Who shrunk from his wife’s gentle touch?” He laughed miserably, eyes steely with tears Sakura wasn’t sure he was capable of producing. “It felt like there was a demon waiting to be let out and it scared me! It… it still does.”

She felt so inadequate against everything Hashirama told her, but it wasn’t as if she’d shrank away. As nascent as her experience in the field of psychology was, she knew better than to flag and let him suffer when she was likely the best person available. Resting her elbows on her crossed legs at the thigh, she slouched comfortably. 

“But you never did, did you? You never hit them.”

Hashirama glanced at her sharply, mouth ajar in genuine surprise. “N-No, I never did, but— There was that fear, always that fear. Especially when I faced Madara at the Valley of the End. What I said to him, what I said to _ you _ . I never apologized for that, did I?” His smile was nervous, anxious, but Sakura knew better than to stop him.

“In all fairness, you didn’t really know who I was, especially when I brought up Konoha like that,” Sakura figured when she straightened a little, deigning to recline her back against the column behind her. “But, things have changed. You know what I’m trying to do now. I don’t want to hurt anyone, just… tell the truth. Make it so the hundreds of people who died not knowing why, not even to be properly remembered, will be. Even if it’s not much, in the end.” Though she felt a sting of guilt at derailing the conversation, it wasn’t impossible ground to regain. “Sorry, rambling.” The corner of her lips quirked, and Hashirama relaxed some from it. 

“I’m sorry for saying that, for almost passing judgment too quickly. I should’ve listened.” What should’ve been cathartic quickly darkened his features, withdrawing from the reconciliation. “When I said that to Madara, I meant it. Every word. Gods… how horrible does that make me, Sakura-san? I thought I was justified, but it made me look at people differently. Especially Mito and little Akio. Madara was in pain, and I was right to confront him, and I didn’t want him to die, but what choice did he leave me? It was karmic. Realizing that was the consequence, wasn’t it? Living with that fear of what I’d be willing to do. How proud my father would’ve been to see me become identical to him.” The Senju stared at his hands, as if remembering the blood that had stained them.

Even though acknowledging his own abuse at his father’s hands was progress enough, she wondered about that. The ramifications of realizing how far he was willing to go for his village that he was willing to defend to a fault, beyond even a reasonable wish to protect the innocent, uninvolved lives. Hell, Sakura would’ve never wanted to destroy it, even if she had the power to. She couldn’t take an innocent life, let alone destroy her home like Pein had so ruthlessly. That day still haunted her, nearly on the same level as what Orochimaru had done in the Konoha Crush.

“But, you’ve never acted on it since, right? I’m not saying killing Madara was right, but… I’ve been there with Sasuke. I never wanted to kill him, but I thought it was the only way. Even Naruto only would’ve gone through with it if it meant dying with Sasuke, so…” It was funny, realizing how much they had in common. Sakura thought the generational divide applied only to Naruto and Sasuke since they were the transmigrants of Asura and Indra after Hashirama and Madara. Maybe Mito had been in such a place, too.

“I went to war, and I killed people. It’s not the same, but it’s not entirely different, is it? Being around for decades made me realize how wrong it all was, how those wars were probably my fault. My failure.”

Sakura still remembered how Madara had said as much, too, and how she’d been too blindly loyal to Konoha to see some truth through it. That their Lord First could do no wrong. Her lips pursed, shifting in her seat. 

“Except, it is. Being a shinobi means you have to accept that you might kill people. If you’re battling in a war, that’s okay, and in missions, too. As long as you do it out of a desire to protect those you love, if you have to kill the person you could’ve talked things through with anywhere else, then it’s okay. If it’s for the sake of the village, it’s always okay,” Sakura said morosely, the words hung like a string of bones over her head. Macabre, but not attached to the people they might’ve applied to. The innocent, the shinobi fighting for the same reason she would’ve… 

Gods, she was glad it had never come to that.

“Haruno… I don’t think I’ve ever heard a clan name like that.” Sakura glanced at Hashirama, the man thoughtful as opposed to guilty. Maybe it was what he needed more than stewing on what he couldn’t change. “And it was my business to know about almost all of them, once.” His smile was wan, but curious.

“It’s because I’m not from a shinobi clan. Or a non-clan shinobi family usually associated with one,” Sakura supplied with a shrug. “It's funny. Growing up, I used to get bullied because I didn’t belong to either. I had this idea in my head that being born into a clan was like a noble family, and most of the people I knew were the kids of clan heads. I remember telling my mom that the only reason I got picked on was because of my forehead.” Even so, it felt strangely innocuous compared to what she endured presently. “But, that changed during the first Chūnin Exams when a classmate of mine almost died at her cousin’s hand because of something neither could help. All to prevent a war with Kumo. They were both Hyūga—main and side branch—so you probably get it, right?”

Hashirama smiled wistfully. “That’s why I wanted the clannish mentality to end so badly. Because I knew that clans like my own, the Uzumaki, Uchiha, and Hyūga were all seen as better. That they had their own problems that were enabled from that mentality. I wanted to end all that, for everyone to feel like one big family. I wanted that for Madara, too, even if Izuna’s death weighed him too heavily for that to be possible.”

“I guess there’s a lot of things we could wish for,” Sakura said after a beat, moving closer as the brunet watched her, mildly startled but allowing her hand that came to rest gingerly on his shoulder before settling. She was quiet while Hashirama slowly acclimated, feeling his bristle soothe. It made a warm feeling flower in her chest. “I’m going to do the right thing, Hashirama-san. I don’t know if it’ll end the way I want, but we’ll be a lot better off. I want to protect that dream, too.”

Sakura blushed lightly when his hand came to cover her own, feeling warm and solid despite the fact that his body wasn’t even human.

“I believe in you, Sakura. And… thank you for this. All of this.”

At that, she smiled softly. Maybe it wasn’t going to be as bad as she feared after all.

In the short lull between them, it was Hashirama who broke the spell again. 

“Konoha means a lot to you, doesn’t it, Sakura?” he asked suddenly, taking the kunoichi by surprise. It was enough to retract her hand, but not out of unpleasantness. Seating herself again, she mulled over her answer. 

“Well, yeah… It’s funny. I had a conversation about this with my mentor, Ibiki Morino,” she began before recalling that this Hashirama likely didn’t know about anyone born after his death. “He’s the Head of Torture and Investigation, but I asked him why he was willing to help me. Why he was willing to put everything on the line, and what he told me really spoke to me. He said it’s because he’s a patriot who loves his home, but in order to protect it, it means operating from the shadows. To protect it from its enemies… and sometimes, itself.” Sakura met Hashirama’s amber gaze with a significant weight.

“Your mentor is a very wise man, Sakura. And, he’s right,” Hashirama replied with a faraway, thoughtful look. “No matter what happens, Konoha will never be an evil place. Maybe there’s evil people, people willing to do them harm, but the people themselves can’t be held accountable for the actions of a few. Only those who were supposed to protect them and the ones responsible should be.”

Though, Sakura knew it wasn’t her place to pass judgment on people like Sasuke or Madara on how they felt about their home—or, what should’ve been their home—but, Hashirama was right. What she was doing was motivated by an intense feeling of justice, to seek it out where it couldn’t be before, at the same time, there were thousands of people who knew less than she had. And she’d been ignorant to the truth of Sasuke’s sufferings until it was far too late, but then and there, her vow to protect Sasuke and Naruto still rang true. The girl who had cried and pleaded for the Uzumaki to save their friend when she couldn’t was still her wish until the end. But, she wasn’t going to blame an entire village that had the truth kept from them. 

That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to tear apart the ones responsible for making him and Naruto suffer, even if it wouldn’t be with her fists. She hadn’t been selected for Team 7 for her intelligence for nothing.

“I still remember when Lord Third would come to the Academy and give lectures. One that really stood out was how there’s a part of the Will of Fire where each shinobi in the village has something known as their ‘King’. The King is whatever we want it to be, but that it ultimately means someone or something we want to protect. That the village’s people is every Leaf shinobi’s true King,” Sakura mused with a nostalgic look in her eyes. 

“I taught him something similar when he was my disciple,” Hashirama piped up with a proud smile. “That the people of the village are all family who have to protect each other. That we’re more than our clans or families, but one community that looks out for each other and protects itself from anything that could threaten that.”

Sakura couldn’t help but frown a little at that, the Senju’s chipper smile falling as the kunoichi became visibly grim.

“But, what about people who take it too far?” she asked quietly, glancing at the former Hokage furtively. Although Madara had been the only one she’d confided in regarding what she was doing explicitly while Hashirama was only aware superficially, with his receptive silence did she continue. “Before, the people who threatened the village spurned the Will the Fire, but now, I’m facing people who are taking it too far. Who turn its ideal into a reason to smother less powerful people under its heel so they don't pose a threat. Even if there wouldn’t be much they could do.”

Hashirama’s features became graven as his jaw set. “The Will of Fire is supposed to mean  _ peace _ through  **love** , not an excuse to oppress the less powerful, let alone the innocent,” the brunet said with a clench of one of his fists. “Peace through power is more closely related to the Curse of Hatred, but I never saw it as an excuse to demonize the Uchiha. In fact, I don’t think it relates to them alone. To me, it means anyone who tries to leverage power in a negative or selfish way to stamp out the opposition and call it peace. It’s a curse that’s been kept alive for centuries. In fact, I remember their true definition of it being similar to that.”

Sometimes, it was easy to forget that Hashirama had been among the first of the Senju to want to accept and make peace with the Uchiha, that his friendship with Madara and the sentiments borne towards Madara’s clan were unique among his kinsmen for decades, it seemed like. All the same, Hashirama’s definition for the Curse of Hatred made far more sense than a reason to frame the Uchiha as genetically prone to violence and insanity. It made her relieved that he’d been the one she found here, and not… 

_ Someone like Danzō, _ she thought with an internal shudder of revulsion.

“These people might be those you knew, once. Koharu Utatane and Homura Mitokado,” Sakura said in a low tone, watching as Hashirama’s face became a twisted mask of rage. 

In his fury, he smote his fist into the smooth onyx wall, upsetting Sakura’s cape from his shoulder. Though it didn’t cave upon impact, the very structure shuddered. _ So, that’s where Shisō gets her raw strength from. _

“How dare they.  _ How dare they, _ ” the brunet hissed, flinty gaze flickering to Sakura who held it grimly. “What they did has to do with the Uchiha, doesn’t it, Sakura?”

She nodded once. “They’re the ones who pushed Itachi Uchiha, Sasuke’s older brother who had been only 13, to commit it. They forced him to choose between genocide and saving his brother, or letting a coup commence that would see them all killed.”

“They didn’t even talk…? All they did was make a boy enact such a sick decision?” It was a terrible kind of awe that filled the Senju’s voice, Sakura able to feel his disgust and rage mingle sickly between each other. 

Then and there, they were alike in their powerlessness. Of learning the truth far, far too late. What Hashirama was going through mirrored Sakura’s own feelings of helplessness through her time in the between the retrieval mission to find Sasuke after three years, and leading to the war itself where she screamed her hopeless feelings to the boy she’d loved. Even to Yamato where she felt herself crack after Naruto lost himself to Kurama upon encountering Orochimaru at the Tenchi Bridge that had set him off. From girlhood to womanhood, it had been nothing but an endless stream of complete and utter uselessness. 

“There was someone else, too. Obito Uchiha, Madara’s disciple who took on his will after he died. He helped Itachi kill them remorselessly, in Madara’s name.” 

It only took her a few minutes to outline the outcast Uchiha’s entire story, but when she finished, Hashirama seemed markedly ashen. 

“Gods, Madara, what have you done…?” he muttered to himself, sighing heavily. “I can only imagine the guilt he feels.”

“He feels responsible, yeah. I can’t begin to imagine it.”

“I can,” Hashirama said as he raked his hand through his still-damp tendrils of hair. “Knowing you’re the reason your clan is decimated isn’t a fate I’d wish on anyone. If only he were here now, I could help him, maybe.”

“Why don’t you?” Sakura asked suddenly, lips pursed. “You’re one of the most powerful people on the planet, still! Why don’t you come back to Konoha and we could put an end to all this? Help me, Hashirama! With you, all of this could be over and they’d be brought to justice so much faster!”

Hashirama bit the inner flesh of his lip, brow furrowing. “I… It’s not that simple. You’re right, maybe I could, but what could I prove? Even if I showed up unexpectedly, they could easily cover their tracks and completely thwart your efforts. We can’t afford to let that happen. Things are delicate enough without me ruining the progress you’ve made.” 

As much as she was loathe to admit it, he was right. And in the eight or so months of progress she’d amassed for the investigations—with the campaign against Root simply the newest head of the hydra—to unleash a Trojan like him would end disastrously. Sakura didn’t doubt that they could destroy evidence faster than they could activate a juinjutsu on someone like Sai.

“You can come with me, though,” Sakura pressed, unsmiling and serious. “I mean it. Barely anyone knows what a Senju’s chakra signature looks like these days, and you can always disguise the bulk of it with fūinjutsu, if need be, right? You’re probably amazing at it.” Though, her expression relaxed with an imploring smile. “You’re tired of just… staying here, aren’t you? You can’t wallow in self-pity forever, Hashirama.”

Though it had more of a sting than she intended, Hashirama knew she was right. He had spent long enough in self-imposed exile for all the guilt he harbored, so what better way to absolve some of it than to undo the damage his manifesto and flawed village design had rendered on the world? Even if the sum of his choices had yielded good and bad in equal share, she knew that it would be good for him.

He smiled weakly. “You do have a point there, yes.” The smile fell, looking contemplative. “Hard to believe it’s been decades. The world must look so much different, but you’re a good person to see it with, I’m positive.”

Holding a fist out like Naruto commonly did, she nodded encouragingly to do the same. “Well, whatever happens, it’ll be two slug sages against the bad guys, huh?” As he gingerly bumped knuckles with a goofy smile, her face softened. “I’m really glad you’re going with me, Hashirama. It’s nice having another person to do it with. Even if Katsuyu-sama and Ōmu-kun are great help and company as it is,” she amended towards the slug who shied away bashfully. 

“Yeah, let’s knock ‘em dead! …That’s what you say nowadays, right?” 

* * *

Sakura always felt a little wistful after returning from Shikkotsurin, and slightly discombobulated from being reverse summoned by the Katsuyu clone she’d left behind, and it was to her dismay that the sun was already cresting the horizon with feeble rays of sunlight while the roosters on some nearby farms already heralded the dawn. Either way she saw it, there wasn’t much time to sleep more despite how little she had before leaving. 

On a breakfast of some refulgent berries with their powdery blue glow she’d smuggled from the forest and a power bar, Sakura felt energized enough to leave before any neighbors or nearby tenants would notice her presence. From the stiff, thatched roof did she alight to the moist ground, the telltale humidity inherent to the land already clinging to exposed patches of skin. 

The sparse smattering of fields she’d found in the small hamlet soon yielded to the towering cypresses of the bayou with their hoary, dry shrouds of Spanish moss that encompassed the township of Takumi. The buzzing drone of cicadas and the thick stench of algae and stagnant water and hot mud was the first to hit her nostrils before the kunoichi even came to the winding road that would take her to the artisan town proper.

And as she walked, it was but another moment before she alighted into the cypress boughs to expedite her journey. It allowed her to simply think, to reflect before the journey ahead. 

Part of her wondered if she’d gauged the entire situation with Kamae correctly. As it stood, her bust of the human trafficking ring was completely underwhelming for a kunoichi of her level. Anbu or not, even for a chūnin the entire mission felt more suitable for a genin team, maybe. She couldn’t help but remember her first real mission, of the Land of Waves and how its true difficulty had revealed itself early on. How the Sakura she was by then could’ve resolved it faster than even her sensei might’ve thought possible. 

But this? She knew there just had to be more. 

As she bounded through the treetops, Sakura halted at a sign of movement, her eyes flickered to the bilgy waters that bubbled suspiciously, thick and oily from above. Glancing at Ōmukade surreptitiously, the centipede chittered in amusement. 

_ So, do I have to say it, or do you have enough sense to know what’s in there? _ her summon drawled with a beady, excited light in its eyes. 

The moment Ōmukade spoke did a massive crocodile leap from the swamp water with open jaws to no less than 40 feet in the air, Sakura unable to see the full extent of its scaly form in the churning waters and the stale splash that washed heavily over the muddy road. Closing in upon the branch she’d occupied, with blistering speed did she feint towards another branch as the other tore from the tree trunk and crashed in a noisy rain of jostling leaves below.

With nothing in its jaws, the crocodile was ushered down again by gravity, landing like dead weight as its massive bulk sundered the stagnant waters in great waves. 

“Sage!”

Sakura glanced at Ōmukade in befuddlement. “Did that thing just… speak?” she hissed lowly, brow furrowed.

_ You faced a zombie kaijū just the other day, and this is what surprises you, little flower? _

“I heard that!” The centipede chortled amusedly at the reptile’s indigence. 

“You know, usually if you want someone’s attention, you don’t try and  _ eat _ them,” Sakura huffed after landing easily on the slippery roadside, hand on her cocked hip. “Besides that, how did you know I’m a sage?” 

The crocodile laughed richly, the kunoichi able to see its full length where it buoyed on the water. No less than 20 meters in length, it was certainly massive for a crocodile by far, but still rather small to a slug sage. His snout nudged the shoreline, flat head alone the size of a small bridge. “Come on my back, young one. I mean the Slug Sage of Shikkotsurin no harm. In fact, I mean to help.”

_ Huh. So, I’m getting titles now?  _ Sakura thought to herself, leaping to the reptile’s back like stepping on a small islet; if land was ever extremely scaly, that was. Its dusty olive hide blended perfectly with the algae-infested waters, tail undulating sideways to propel them through the water. Sakura settled on its back, away from the blunt protrusions that ran along its spine. “So, mind telling me what this is all about?” 

“Hah! Not very patient, are you, Slug Sage? I am Wani Kishi, swamp king of Takumi. How would I not know of another sage?” the reptile rumbled as they drifted lazily through the swamp. 

Sakura’s eyes widened in surprise. “ _ Wait _ —you’re a sage, too?” she exclaimed in shock, gripping one of its ridges in suspense. 

“You’ve attained the rank you have on the Coiled Path, and you don’t know of sages outside of the Sansukumi?” Wani tsked, even though his words only proved to confuse her further. “Ah, you’re still so new, eh? The Sansukumi are the three legendary sage regions of the slugs, the toads, and the snakes. Now, the sage monkeys of Kakazan are seen as their leader, but they’re still outside of it. But, I will tell you this: there are many, many places in the world where natural energy exists, as do animals intelligent enough to harness it. You’ve experienced the mutations, right? Well, as time marched on, sage animal clans emerged with unique senjutsu, even before Sage of Six Paths’ time. Not all of us have whole countries, but even in our pockets, we exist. I’m the last sage in these parts.”

Although it was Sakura’s first time hearing it, part of her wasn’t surprised. She’d seen instances of people unconnected to seemingly any sage path still wielding sage chakra, though Jūgo was the only person who came to mind immediately. 

“Oh… okay. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the history lesson, but I kind of have something I need to be doing, Wani-san, and it’s too important to pass up,” Sakura explained with a tetchy feeling licking her nerves like tongues of flame. 

“I’m old, but I’m not senile, Slug Sage. Bah, what’s your name, anyways?”

_ It’s Sakura, you doddering old lizard,  _ Ōmukade supplied with a wicked tease.

“I was wondering when you would speak up, you overgrown caterpillar. You mukade always were nothing but trouble, and you certainly scared the piss out of my grandson the other day,” Wani snorted, a spray of mist ejected from his nostrils. “Ah, not that it wasn’t fucking hilarious. But, hm… Sakura. It suits you, Slug Sage.”

As much as urgency prompted her to urge the placid crocodile along, part of the kunoichi almost didn’t want to. How many people—let alone sapient beings—were really in on this world of theirs? While she might have craved asking someone like Naruto, Sakura knew the Uzumaki had never truly cared about the Inner Path in the way she was coming to. After his week training on Myōbokuzan, she hadn’t heard from him about it again. Like it had been a one-stop trip to get a power boost, and that was it. It wasn’t that she begrudged him about it, but she felt as though he wouldn’t understand, let alone be able to fathom what she was doing. 

Team Seven felt as though it hadn’t been the same once Sasuke had returned. The powerful bond it felt like they had built, of mutual support and respect, had unraveled once their goal had been reached. And it wasn’t as if she’d ever stopped loving them like family, either. Even so, the war had proven that the ties between the Neo-Sannin paled in comparison to the transmigrants that were Hagoromo’s chosen. 

The past four to five years had been Sasuke and Naruto’s story. Sakura had wanted to support and protect them both, but by then, it felt fruitless. There, in Takumi, relying on allies that had nothing to do with them made her feel strangely alone. Even though she had more people than ever who placed their faith in her the way the whole world had in Naruto. The way  _ she _ had.

That nagging, lonely feeling she’d recognized as early as in the Mountain’s Graveyard months and months ago sat like a stone in her breast. 

Yet, when Madara and Hashirama’s faces flashed briefly before her eyes, she couldn’t help the secretive smile that came beneath her hood. How strange was it that the ones who had passed the torches to Sasuke and Naruto were the ones she’d become the closest to?

“Wani-sama?” Sakura addressed after her brief reverie. “You found me because you have something to tell me, right? Something important?”

“My grandson mentioned something about a, uh… caravan passin’ through the other day, that’s it! You’re here because of it, aren’t you? Overheard something about it when your worm stole his food from him,” Wani rumbled while the centipede in question remained indifferent to the epithet. 

“Hang on, you know where they went?” Sakura demanded as she practically crawled forth to sit between his brows, hanging her head over an eye so it was filled with her features. 

“You don’t have algae stuck in your ears, do ya, girlie?” the reptile goaded teasingly. 

Sakura practically trembled with anticipation as her lost quandary finally had an answer, of what would ultimately yield to be the next step on the labyrinth she navigated yet had barely even breached. “Can you take us there, please?”

“Hahah, that’s why we’re here in the first place, girlie! Keep your head down and stay quiet. It won’t take us long at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, it's been awhile! Sorry for the wait for this update, my guys, but I'm getting this ball rolling again.
> 
> So, to couple with his past of abuse, something that factors into my portrayal of Hashirama, aside from his past of abuse, is that he became extremely touch-adverse as a result of it. [Meta](https://oh-my-hashirama.tumblr.com/post/632782369213071361/hashirama-isnt-as-warm-as-the-fandom-thinks) like this really drive my belief home, especially since Hashirama is such a warm person despite avoiding contact.
> 
> As for Wani Kishi, his name is actually a bit of a pun. [Wani Kishi](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wani_\(scholar\)) is both the scholar he was named for, and for his species, [wani](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wani_\(dragon\)), which is a kind of sea monster that encompasses gators and the like. 
> 
> For the Sansukumi, the inclusion of the sage monkeys at Kakazan (which is another sage region I established chapters ago) actually correlates to the Sansukumi sage regions because it mirrors the Sannin almost perfectly. Hiruzen, a Sarutobi, is heavily associated with monkeys, and as the Sannin's teacher, the inclusion of Kakazan felt like it rounded it out well.
> 
> With the sudden crocodile sages in Wani Kishi, he was a summon I gave another character unrelated to MMC that I couldn't resist including. It also relates to how I headcanon that sage regions and animal sages (including humans) come about in the first place. As I put in this chapter, sage regions and sage clans emerge from pockets of the world where natural energies exist stronger than in most places; strong enough that they gradually learn to regulate it until they start to mutate to be acclimated and become sages. Of course, humans can mutate, too, much like how Sakura does over the time spent in Shikkotsurin. There's more to it, but it'll come up in later chapters.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This fic is my own imagining and conception of the Slug Sage & Mokuton AUs popular with Sakura. As such, there will be expansive world-building and original conceptions, as well as taking many liberties with with the events after canon, rendering the Hiden Novels and other extraneous material as obsolete, but borrowed from. 
> 
> This is set in my Way of Yin & Yang AU that encompasses this customverse.


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